A Deck of Cards
by Teletubbies Enthusiast
Summary: It had been four years since Roman Torchwick officially retired from his criminal antics. Unbeknownst to him, a mute and broken Ruby Rose would require his assistance once more, ultimately launching them both into a hateful journey of vengeance.
1. chapter 00

A Deck of Cards

 **Summary:** It had been four years since Roman Torchwick officially retired from his criminal antics. Unbeknownst to him, a mute and broken Ruby Rose would require his assistance once more, ultimately launching them both into a hateful journey of vengeance.

 **A/N** : Someone should really stop letting me make dark!fics because holy hell. I'm a sucker for Ruby and Roman interacting, but this isn't really Rosewick (it's more of a BROTP thing sooo…) Brief hints of Cookies and Cream (if you squint close enough) and mute!Ruby. This story is gonna be hella short, so you know I won't update until a year passes (joke, but I mean-)

lol y'all bout to hate me for this fic

edit; i haven't written in a year. legit, a year. this was sitting in my files for a while now. so um, yeah. i haven't forgotten the main points (i outlined everything), so future chapters are in store.

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing.

 **Chapter 0 0 \- baby blue world**

The one rule Roman Torchwick always held dearly to his twisted, wicked heart was simple. It was short, to the point, and very straightforward- something Roman often found himself smiling upon.

"Fuck empathy."

Two words.

His life consisted heavily on those two words, for empathy, he had chosen, was a weakness. Empathy was the understanding of how one felt or the sole ability to share emotions with other humans; It was a clear skill that a criminal mastermind could not dare show.

His life wasn't as bland as most thought. He had emotions. He felt boredom upon the same development of plans, pity against the puppets huntresses and huntsmen would become, annoyance at the schoolchildren that just had to get in the way of his plans, and relief when the puzzle pieces formed the desired result.

Showing emotions was different. He was a criminal. A mastermind. A fugitive. God, most simply considered him to just be a very bad person.

The titles came with his job, yet not once did he despair. He had to survive somehow, maybe not on the right terms, but it always counted as survival.

Feeling something that made him human and demonstrating it was...different. Doing something based on emotions rather than logic was an action he could not ever afford to do, for his delicate plans could easily shift and break.

Four years after the fall of Beacon- after he happily retired with a life filled of riches and liberties- Roman still lived true to his one piece of advice that helped him succeed; fuck empathy.

He took the words to heart, even if he had absolute no use for it now. He was retired. He was no longer a criminal- or needed for that matter. Though it was a bit of an angering issue at first, Roman no longer cared at this point.

If the brightest light of all of Remnant could flicker and die, then a thief could settle into a life of riches.

Even as he watched the world burn in Cinder's flames, the man no longer cared. He showed no empathy, never once raising a finger to help a wounded citizen or to fix anything. Why bother? His job was done, he received his reward, he needed nothing else.

Bland, dirty green eyes would observe the world beyond his apartment with little to no interest. It was boring, if not pointless, to stay and keep guard as the world changed.

Beacon had fallen. Vale was in ashes. There was nothing left to it. He could do absolutely nothing about it, except accept the fate of a retired criminal living la dolce vita in a sealed apartment. He would show no emotion, give no interest in how sad and torn Vale had become, or hope to be left out of his cage.

For some reason, life decided it was time for one of his plans to finally fail. Having a certain fugitive in red wander into his prison and strike fear in the guards' hearts had never been part of his plan, or having that same damn girl feel the need to conquer up his courage. Being released by a girl covered in crimson red- blood from her teammates- wasn't part of it either, along with burning the ashes of the past for the sake of vengeance.

Life had a funny way of working.

It was a shame that breaking his one rule on empathy was the direct cause of a spiteful journey.

The fondest memory Roman ever had was of him sitting with Neopolitan in a beat-down park.

In retrospect, the park was horrible. Swing sets that threatened to break with just a tiny bit of physical contact, overgrown grass that had long been forgotten by most lawn mowers, a slide infested with snakes and bugs- it truly was and would always be a horrible park. In fact, it was an operational base for shady, amateur business that Roman found rather pathetic. (Drug dealing at parks? How classic was that?)

While the location was rather...unsettling, Roman found the memory pleasant.

Out of all the mess his life had become, the memory was the only one he could remember. Completely, anyway.

"The world is round."

Neo was only ten.

Her brown and pink eyes lit up, gleaming with curiosity.

"Round?" She repeated, head cocked to the side.

"The world is round." He restated, offering a sincere smile. It was night, the world was bundled up in a blanket of darkness. There were bright stars that twinkle and glowed, offering their tiny planet a small chance of light.

"How do you know?" Her once wide eyes narrowed.

For a moment, he blinks. How did he know? Well, it went back to basic history. While Remnant's own knowledge of its sole existence was expanding with each passing year, the theory that the world was indeed round was proven centuries ago by travelers and explorers. Of course, rather than having physical evidence, the word was just passed down through legends.

"Because that is how it is, or at least, how we have decided it is."

It was odd that Neo's question triggered so many inquiries inside of him. The world was round, he knew..it was common logic...yet…

"So the world is round?"

"Yes, my little sweet tooth." He ruffled her hair in affection. The action caused the young preteen to smile. "The world is round, but that isn't my main point."

"Then what is it?"

He eyed her for a second. Neo was watching patiently, hands settled on her lap and a grin on her pale face.

"The world is round for a reason."

"Which is?"

"Ah, you're ruining the great storyteller I am. Neopolitan, dear, patience is key." He hid the grin that threatened to appear on his face upon the sight of her glare. "The world is round, so there will be no corners to fall off."

Neo blinked.

"Think about it like this." Roman gestured towards the sky. "You see those stars? They will go on and on, and so will our world. The world is round, perhaps not literal as you suggested, but our lives will always go on. We grow and grow and change, something that makes us humans magnificent. No matter how wonderful or how hideous we become, we will always change somehow. Our life is a vicious cycle, really."

"I get it!" She jumped from the grass to her feet, dusting off her multi-colored dress. The girl turned back to the older man, nodding. "Our world is round. I get it. But!" She put up a finger. "Doesn't our cycle end at some point? How is our world round because of that?"

"We all plant something in this world- big or small. We reproduce, build families and connections, maybe even businesses. So really, our life is never forgotten. Maybe we won't be remembered, but our actions and influence will never change. And besides, things do move. We leave something behind either way."

"I...kinda get it. Our world is round...and meanwhile, we have options for our lives. Right?"

Roman couldn't hide his smile anymore.

"Exactly."

The fondest memory Roman ever had was back when his world was round, back before he even bothered to build his infamous 'fuck empathy' rule. Back when he had the liberty of contemplating about whether the world of Remnant was truly round or not, but now, his world was so small, so limited, it became quite useless to think about such.

Roman's world was small.

Roman's world consisted of a lone apartment in the outskirts of the city of Vale.

There was no crime, no running, no worries for what there was to eat, no Neo...for a world that was supposed to be round, it was awfully small and despairingly lonely.

The buzzing of his alarm clock reminded him that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't so bad.

A hand was slammed against the button, silencing the damned thing. Turning, the man let out a groan as he took a deep breath. Green orbs slid open, adjusting to the sunlight that crept inside the tiny room.

 _'Welcome to the sweet life...my own little, fucked up world.'_

He slid off his bed with ease, stretching his muscles. Eyes wandered to the closet, pondering on his outfit choice for the day. There was fresh clothes in his closet, though Roman had gotten into the habit of wearing pajamas all day. It made him feel old, yet it wasn't like he would have any visitors to impress soon. Or at least, ones he could score a conversation with.

Instead, he headed towards the kitchen.

His apartment was small. It wasn't luxurious like his old home and it desperately needed new decorations.

The walls, once golden and amber in its glory, were chipped and had stains of dirt and what he hoped was not blood. A new paint job could work wonders, Roman had decided. It would be hard to request paint...he had been asking for a new box of cigarettes for a while now.

The rest of his new home needed remodeling. Bland, basic furnitures...colors that bore him...Roman needed something new. There were frames hung on the wall, which needed actual photographs inside. It was absolutely pointless to him.

Who would waste their time to hang up frames with no pictures inside?

A hand reached for the silver refrigerator's handle. It swung open, making a satisfying click as the light turned on. Rows of water bottles were aligned neatly, fruit and refrigerated snacks stacked upon each other. The fridge, although he never messed with it, was constantly restacked.

Roman fetched out a water bottle, twisting the top off and sipping the contents. He savoured its taste- water was refreshing, after all.

There was an abrupt knock on the door. The man sighed, setting the bottle on the table down. Newspapers and magazines covered it, with the headlines of _"Schnee Dust Company set to fall!" and"Beacon Headmaster, where is he now?"._

"About time, my dear!" He headed towards the door, opening the slot. The door wasn't..well, it wasn't meant to be opened. A plate was slid, breakfast being given promptly at nine.

"You know, I felt as if you had forgotten about me." The ex-criminal took the plate, smirking slightly. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, coffee... all a decent meal. "Will Cinder ever pay me a visit?"

The bot never replied. She wasn't programmed to, because somehow, a combat robot was stripped off its capacities and turned into a slave.

The bot didn't feel, but it could cook a hell of a five-star dinner.

"When am I getting my cigarettes, by the way?" At that, something else was tossed into the slot.

"Finally!" The tall man gave a genuine smile, fetching his lighter. It was a small gift from Neo at some point (for father's day, although both weren't even related) and would later turn into the only object he had from her. In some ways, it was the only way he remembered of her existence.

The lighter was silver and engraved with his initials, a quote faintly visible underneath them. He would read it and read it again, before ultimately giving up and lighting up a cigarette.

 _"Six minutes!" She tapped his shoulder, a faint smile on her pale face._

 _Roman looked over, turning slightly to eye the girl. A cigarette in his hand, he raised an eyebrow._

 _"What, my dear?"_

 _"Six minutes." She sat down on the crates, swinging her legs eagerly. "Six minutes you get to live less and ya know, be with me."_

He ate in silence. There was no television with images flashing, no hectic Neo who babbled about cereal flavors and world domination, no radio blaring with a morning talk show. Back in his old life, he never thought about appreciating a simple morning, yet now he longed for one ever since.

There was no television, because under all this chaos, who produced shows anymore? And although reruns were normal, alongside news bulletins that irked more than informed, he didn't even have a tv. And radios? He had one, but it mostly was used for emergencies. That and no one played music from the good old days.

And Neo? God, who knew where she was.

He finished with his breakfast, drinking coffee and reading a magazine. As routine called for, he placed his plate in the same slot. Sighing softly, the old man shook his head and focused his gaze solely on the magazine.

In all honesty, Roman Torchwick had absolutely nothing to do. His routine was blank, empty of the freedom he once found.

Sometimes, he would stand aside the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the outside world. The windows were shut off, wood planks covering glass. Small gaps were left, an obvious sign of a poor and rushed job.

It became his hobby. He didn't eye birds, but military jets and planes. He couldn't see towering buildings, but their remnants. He wouldn't gaze at the baby blue world, but at a dirty and corrupted world.

Yet even following his so-called routine, trouble's grasp couldn't quite leave him. The morning was normal, sure, but the ending...was something completely unexpected.

There was a **thud!**

There was a slam.

There was a scream.

Then something knocked the unopenable, wooden door down.

Now, Roman was scared, cautious, and confused. What exactly was going on? How come the door was knocked down? What about the bots? Where were they at?

Finally, for what seemed in ages, green eyes met silver ones. And as quickly as the conman could, he evaluated her, a smirking working its way to his face.

She stood alone, left leg limping slightly. Her arms and legs were bruised; her skin a canvas for purple and red and pink and blue to splatter against each other. There were cuts, a bit like how delicate stars danced across a night sky, only these cuts Roman found were nasty and deep and long.

Her clothes was ripped, black pants torn everywhere and a red, thin hoodie. He chuckled because even then she wore her signature colors.

Her hair was chopped off unevenly, the red tips now gone. It was a mess, leaves and branches sticking out of her raven strands.

But most horrifying was her face. Gone was the happy teenager, cradled in angelic dreams and fighting with a passion for justice. The child was gone, a dream and smile now gone.

Her pale face, now rid of all her baby fat, showed a mixture of hatred, fury, and fear. Those three, Roman Torchwick knew from first hand experience, was a dangerous combination.

Silver eyes had long lost their spark, a worn, cold, tired gaze replacing them. He couldn't picture her smiling with all the bruises in her skin, along with a scar that ran over her lips.

He wondered, how did she get that one? What did her voice sound like?

 ** _Drip._**

 ** _Drip._**

 ** _Drip._**

There's a sound he just noticed, and he can't find the source. At least, not at first.

It hit the floor, red splashing against tiles. He flickered his eyes back at the girl, ignoring the hypnotizing view of crimson against white.

"Red, please don't get the floor dirty. Has no one taught you basic manners?"

 ** _Drip._**

 ** _Drip._**

 ** _Drip._**

She had a glare on her face. Sure, she was awfully still young, but it seemed like she had aged ten more years.

"What? Cat's got your tongue?"

It comes to him that the source of the dripping is the cut on her leg, but then he figures it's the slash above her thigh, and soon concludes it's from the ugly cut on her neck. Then he realizes, much to his unspeakable shock, that her whole body is the source of the liquid.

Blood dripped off her hair, and the few droplets that weren't falling on the floor were soaking her clothes.

"Red, why don't you speak?"

A sharp weapon was poised against his neck in a flash. It was a single knife, threatening to slash his neck open.

He cocked his head to the side, never once showing fear.

If he did, it would be a sign of weakness. He was unarmed, but he doubted Red was strong enough to engage in hand to hand combat.

"Red? Is this really how you greet old friends?"

She opens her mouth, almost as if she tried speaking. There was no sound, no annoying, female teenage voice. Instead, there was a harsh cry that escaped her scarred lips.

"So, Cat's really got your tongue?" Roman inquired, giving an exaggerated sigh. "Or is it Cinder?"

It occurs to him that Red hadn't turned into a broody, silent assassin. No, the girl just couldn't talk.

At that remark, the tip of the knife pressed even more against his neck. Beads of blood formed, green eyes remaining unfazed.

"How threatening, Red."

Red pointed towards the door, frowning. With the knife still against his neck, she grabbed his hand roughly and pulled him. The girl walked towards the door, keeping Roman in her view.

"Oh, Red. Where are we going?"

She didn't speak. Her hand pointed once more outside.

"Why outside, Red? Lost your teddy bear?"

He thought he saw a brief flash of pain across her face, before turning into irritation.

She put the knife away and dug into her pocket, pulling out a photograph. A finger dug into her blood, tracing words across the back of the photo.

 _"Help Find."_

It was a photo of four girls- one being Red. The four were smiling (and he noticed that Red had the biggest grin), linking arms with each other.

 _Team RWBY / Second Year_ was scrabbled beneath the photo of the beaming schoolgirls.

"Red, I have no idea where your friends are."

She nodded, writing something down again.

 _"Help find = Freedom/Neo"_

The last word got him. Neo? Was Neo alive? Wait, how did Red know of Neo's existence? His heart gave a flutter of excitement, but he fought hard to not show it.

 _'Fuck empathy.'_

"You know, I should get you a pen." He responded dryly, rolling his eyes. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tapped his finger against his chin.

Red shook her head, gesturing at the words again.

In some ways, Roman _almost_ felt bad. Red was a young girl, almost around the age of Neo, who was stripped from all her family and friends. With her body's condition, he figured she had gone through hell and back.

Except pity wasn't in his vocabulary, so _almost_ was an accurate word.

Yet Neo...Neo was his weakness. He hadn't seen her in four years. He wondered if she was okay, though in his heart he knew she wasn't.

What had become of the girl he raised? The one he took under his wing? The same girl that had grown to see him as a father?

He was interested, maybe not in helping Red, but in finding Neo.

 _"The world is round, right?"_

He thought of the engraved gift, the memories in his mind and the worry in his heart. Could she really know where Neo is? Well, even if she didn't...he had freedom. He could leave and look on his own. Besides, what was he supposed to do now? His cage had been opened, who was he to stay in and wait?

Red directed her hand towards the door again, almost growing impatient.

"Red, one can't venture out to this magnificent world alone without supplies, now can they?"

For a moment, he thought Red grinned, but it wasn't true. Instead the cold girl nodded, eyeing the refrigerator.

"Now, I'm not stupid, Red. We have max five minutes to leave whatever the hell this place is." He had questions, ranging from how the girl knew where Roman was, along with where exactly he even was. "So hurry up and take as much shit as we need."

He knew he had a backpack stored somewhere, though he doubted its uses. He could hand it to Red and pack a waters and fruits and snacks. He didn't have money, but he figured this would help for a couple of days.

In the span of five minutes, everything was ready. He had even helped the girl change into clothes, giving her a one of his white button up shirts and black pants. He made a mental note to either rob cash and clothing from a store or head to his old home as soon as possible. The clothes he had changed into just didn't seem to fit the style he was going for nowadays.

Plans were already being formed in his mind, his one little rule being pushed back for the sake of Neo. cigarettes in his pocket with a lighter, and his senses ready to bring in everything the once baby blue world had to offer.

"C'mon Red." He flashed a toothy grin. "I think it's time we both have a family reunion."


	2. He brought out a deck of cards

**A/N:** I'm sorry. My mental health has been so messed up, I've gone through a lot. I gave up on writing, drawing, and everything. Somehow, I'm back and my writing and editing skills are so rusty I'm so so sorry if I messed this chapter up.

From now on, I'll update **every Saturday (except 1/20)**. That's my schedule for updating, tho I warn ahead of time that I suck suck suck at keeping up with it. I'm sorry.

Follow me on tumblr: RubesBlues. I also have Archive of Our Own under teletubbieess.

This chapter is awfully short compared to the rest of the story. I still need to look at chapter three and four, but I promise I'll finish this. And yes, there will be answers to everything. (Or mostly, why answer everything in a mystery?)

As for my other story, And Then There Were None, I don't know. Not yet, anyway.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own RWBY

 **a deck of cards**

 **chapter 0 1: he brought ****out  
** **a deck of cards**

Spending most of his time in isolation, most of what Roman did was ponder. He thought of the outside world, at first decided to stick to his cold-heart moralities and watch the world burn and crumble in agonizing despair. The home Roman has been tossed into was okay, making a decent living for him. He had food, shelter, and his own means of entertainment.

Afterwards, he had lost count of the days that had passed. Days escalated into months before a whole year went by in punishment.

Before his little prison (as he soon called it) began, Cinder claimed it was a temporary situation. With Vale's recent ambush and Beacon's fall, she thought it was best for her accomplices to run into hiding.

"Besides," the sinister woman spoke calmly, her voice filling his ears. "I held my end of the deal. What thief would deny a life of luxuries after hard work, after all?"

That was a lie, and his own pride and stupidity would only allow him to realize that afterward.

The apartment he resided in for the last four years was on the outskirts of the city of Vale. A modest building, he admitted, that rose to ten floors in total. Although he wasn't quite sure what the name of the home was, he figured many families would once happily live there.

'At least Cinder didn't lie about the apartment part.' He thought bitterly, eyeing the young woman by his side.

It was a surprise, an unexpected surprise. After the first two years went by, Roman thought he would live in isolation for the rest of his own fucked up life. Now, after four years passed without an actual human interaction, he felt his hopes rise. Not too high, though.

That could turn into a mistake.

The whole entire time Red stayed quiet. The elevators didn't function properly, so he deduced they would be forced to take the flight of stairs. One of Red's leg wasn't in the best form for that- until she showed a small trick.

Down the corridor from his room (notably the only door that didn't open, as the building was empty beside him), there was a rather small office.

They made their way towards it, the body of a young woman lying on the hard, green wooden floor.

"Red?"

Mid-twenties, slender built, light, brown hair, a mole on her chin and two green eyes opened in terror- definitely the woman who had screamed when Red was coming into his life.

There was a single stab in her chest, and he figured that the knife must have cut into her heart or so.

He noticed the uniform, as cliche as it looked, indicate that she was a maid. It was a plaid dress, tinted with shades of blue and white and whites gloves.

"Was she the only one?"

Red looked at the door, and with a shake of her head, another shiver went through his spine.

It had a label, though it had been scratched up. The door showed signs of forced entry, and he figured that was on Red's doing.

Lacking hesitation, he stepped in, Red trailing behind him.

The office, contrary to what he believed would be, was neat and tidy. The walls were white and bare. There was a calendar, but the date hadn't been changed for four years. There was a date marked in red ink, circled twice.

March 28th.

Nothing significant, and Roman figured a small detail wasn't worth cracking his skull over.

There were several monitors on the spotless desk, all shut off except two. One pictured the last floor; the lobby to be exact. Green eyes spotted the second monitor that was actually turned on; his room.

He didn't blink. Red was behind him, and she couldn't (and wouldn't, anyway) register his turmoil of emotions. Yet for him, keeping the anger and disgust that had boiled and irked his stomach would be an accomplishment.

The cage, now vacant of its prisoner, was monitored. This was no shock to him, for he had originally concluded this himself. For reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, he felt irritated and slightly furious.

Could seriously no one have told him what was going on?

The only calming thought was that the bastard who had been watching was dead.

The body was something he had simply glanced over. It was of minor importance, blood splattered against the desk.

Roman held the head up, eyeing the man curiously. White, blue eyes, black hair, around forty years old, notable leaf-shaped birthmark on his nose, and a slashed neck.

Silent and efficient, although blood was quite scandalous. With no remorse or second thought, he dropped it against the desk.

"You did this, Red?"

Red nodded, indifferent towards what he had mentioned or the scene in general. Roman gave a small, "Hm", a part of him refusing to give Red a sign of approval For a brief moment, they both turn at the same. Silver eyes met green ones, and memories flashed through his head. Had someone suddenly hit play in the movie based on his insignificant life? Because for the smallest, least remarkable, meaningless seconds of his own existence, Roman thought he saw Neo's eyes.

Neo's eyes. Neo's brown eyes, or the abrupt switch of brown and pink eyes,

Yet he, for those worthless seconds of his life, sees Neo's innocence in Red's very own unlike-Neo's gaze.

He's learned to keep his emotions in check since the last two decades. For the past four years in absolute, crushing loneliness, the mask had cracked.

His breath hitched for a second before he turned away.

Red raised an eyebrow, a hand raised and beconicking for him to start speaking. With a shake of his hand, she dropped it.

He didn't really quite understand it. Red's silver gaze was dull, angry, and lacking the innocence she once held. They were like doors to her tortured and twisted soul, doors he himself would not once choose to wander into. He preferred to leave that shadowy past behind, but the storm Red was made him want to ask what had happened.

The girl had stepped up, ignoring the corpse and walking towards the back. On the chipped-off green coated wall, there were buttons. She slammed a white button, the sound of gears turning a mechanical churn.

She pulled the makeshift door open, running a hand through the cold metal. A single, rectangular platform popped up. Ruby slipped in, gesturing him to follow.

'Ah. An elevator.' The man thought, nodding. There was enough room for both of them to slide into. Without a doubt, he wandered in.

Red slammed another button, and their journey through darkness began.

"I hope we don't get stuck, Red."

She shook her head.

Understanding, he waited for the ride to end. After awkward seconds of silence, they made it to the very first floor.

The lobby was a mess.

The walls, he figured was back then white, were tinted in a dark grim red. He cringed. Shifting back to where the reception desk would have been, He noticed the desk was torn was in half, faux plants were ripped from glass vases, which were scattered on the floor. The curtains, a once deep shade of blue, were brown, hints of tears and scratches on its cover.

Red seemed unfazed.

She passed by the mess, towards the reception desk.

"Red?"

What on earth could she even find there? Besides, the clock was ticking! They had to leave, now!

She swung the backpack on the ground, sighing. The girl quickly scavenged through the remains, grabbing a thin, rolling object and a few things from a smashed drawer.

Pen and paper.

Communication in partners was essential. His thoughts shifted to those of Neo, but then something else had clicked inside of him.

"Red, you don't always need words to communicate. Body language and actions in itself are beyond enough."

A nod, a smirk, a shake of the head, shifting uncomfortably, eyes widened, avoiding someone's gaze- Roman had mastered body language.

There was a reason for this, and Roman has guessed that someone with a missing tongue would need to know.

Neo was mute.

Red was mute. Whether she was hiding it or not, or just ignoring the topic overall, Roman knew.

Roman knew Red was mute.

 _I don't have a voice._

She wrote that hastily, on a sheet of notebook paper and a troubled expression on her face.

Meanwhile, Roman had more than enough experience when it came to communication.

"I could tell." He said, walking towards the glass doors and into his newfound freedom.

 _/01/_

The baby blue world he once clung to, he realized was dark. It was stripped from all the blue, hurled into a world of adrenaline and chaos.

Yet if chaos were an art piece by an infamous (because that was in his vocabulary) artist, this would be a masterpiece.

One would dare say a piece like this would be what could only be watched from the highest of one of Remnant's most luxurious cinemas (okay, that was only him)- a bleeding, torn red sky, a sun hidden from blood-curdling curdling screams echoing through the city, and a world plunged into eternal darkness. Or of rebels who traveled alone or in packs with weapons, hearts pumping in sync and adventure coursing through their veins.

What did the city of Vale look like?

The city of Vale seemed to be in an eternal bliss.

Leaving the apartment has been awfully easy- reinforcements hadn't shown up and he figured that if the only security guy and an unlucky maid were dead, they were good. Besides, Red had proven to be a bit of what he liked to call an assassin from the shadows- the young woman's movements were fast and silent (no pun intended with her current situation, Roman's humor wasn't that twisted!). With that fact being obvious, could the man really have given a chance to say something to his higher authorities or other guards?

Arriving at the city had proven to not be in the slightest of difficulties. There was a yellow-schemed motorcycle parked a mile or so away from his prison. It was not his favorite method of transportation, well, he honestly didn't even care, but Red knew what she was doing.

The amount of yellow reminded him of Red's sister- blondie.

For a fleeting second, he wanted to ask what had happened to her, but he was aware of the answer. He wanted to know why Red was alone, why she was so scratched and bruised and hurt, yet he couldn't. Seeing Red's eyes narrowed in concentration on the path ahead, the barely visible dirt path that was hard and rocky to pass through, he decided not to. It wasn't worth it, and it was too early, to begin with a sob story and torn hearts.

In a number of seconds, the high building had been left behind the background, bright sunlight blessing his body and a city of memories in his sights.

For four years, he had somewhat dreamed of this moment. But what could he think of? A 'WELCOME BACK TO SOCIETY, ROMAN!' sign rising from the land? Or maybe he thought a cheesily placed 'Welcome to the City of Vale' sign would be? There was no welcoming and comforting sign, just land, trees, and a sky.

Taking a deep breath, he inhaled. Was oxygen corrupted now? Had it changed between the four years the criminal had been gone? What about the sun? Did the sun now have some corrupted, violet rays that could strike a person and kill them instantly?

No, it hadn't.

"Red? Now what?" They had made it home (his home, to be exact), but what now?

Like he expected, there was no response. Instead, she turned her head towards him, hand forward and telling him to look ahead.

The city was the same, although it was also quite not the same. A city consisted of homes, buildings, shops, restaurants- that type of scenery. It was there...and not there.

Wasn't everything supposed to be in ruins? He figured a Grimm invested city would be! It wasn't, and that was what puzzled him the most.

Roman felt like an astronaut, an astronaut taking his first step on a shattered moon. Was that possible? He read about it in science fiction once, a story about man venturing into the moon in a fabled world of- what was it? The United States..?

Ah, what a silly name!

Still holding onto Red for dear life (The disgrace! His past self would have hollered and rolled in agony in his king-sized bed with soft, faux, gold silk sheets!), the duo drove into the city. Rather than slipping directly into its crowded cinematic streets, the young woman chose to go for another route, relying heavily on more discreet and lonely streets.

Was there somewhere they could hide? What was her plan? Surely, maybe a shady motel would let them inside their premises, or-

They parked in a graveyard- a boring cliché.

He blinked. Red pulled the keys out of the slot, slipping them into her pocket and gestured for him to follow. He did, unsure of what to think.

The duo wandered in, Red ignoring the tombstones in her path and having her silver orbs focused solely on one- an ugly, nearly washed away tomb. It was grand, at least maybe at some point. Old fashioned, with the typical angel above and all, and very, very big.

He had to admit, maybe it was the biggest tombstone in the entire graveyard.

The words on the headstone read, _"Do not go gentle into that goodnight. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."_

And above was a name he barely recognized.

 _"Here lies Pyrrha Nikos.  
_ _Who still rages against the dying  
of the light."_

There was a date printed, and then it dawned on him.

Wasn't that a world-known celebrity? Or huntress? Didn't he see her in a cereal box that Neo bought once?

Roman swore it was; Cinder had taken great pleasure in bragging about her fall.

It didn't matter.

Red, much to his shock, stepped on the tomb and gently knocked on the statue. She knocked once more, and then one last time. There was a door that swung open at her request.

She looked at Roman, before stepping in.

He followed, unsure of what to expect. He didn't think- he did.

Then there was darkness.

 _/01/_

Then there was light.

A warm, blaze of light. Heat. Warmth. Light.

 _'Fire.'_

He hadn't seen a fire in so, so, so long. It was downright absurd, but he had forgotten how the burst of flames even looked.

It was one of the little things he overlooked before Beacon's fall. One of the tiny things that he wouldn't see for four years.

 _'Fire.'_

Green eyes slid open, fearlessly gazing at the fire in front of him.

Red held a torch.

She turned to him, nodding and gesturing to him to follow.

The torch lit the way towards their unknown destination. They walked through the dreary tunnel, that reeked.

Of what?

Roman couldn't tell, but the smell was terrible.

He was almost grateful to come to stop. Taking a deep breath, the middle-aged man exhaled. He felt his heart pumping and racing, adrenaline running through his veins.

It had been so long since he felt alive.

The girl in front of him blinked. Then she blinked again, looking hard at the path ahead. 4

Their path had split. Quite literally, they only had two choices- to the right or the left.

"Red? Which one is it?" He inquired, hoping the girl knew.

She gave him a look of annoyance before she took off towards the left.

More walking. The only sound throughout their stroll were their footsteps. They bounced and echoed across the tunnel's thin walls, making him wonder if they would encounter anyone.

There was another stop, only this time, it was to their destination.

"Where are we, Red?"

No response. Not even a nod or a look!

How could he be so blind to just follow a rebel?

The raven-haired girl tugged at her backpack, biting her bottom lip.

Both only looked at the little room in front of them, Roman gazing with wonder and Red looking perplexed.

 _'A children's room.'_ The thought came to him once his eyes landed on the bed- a twin sized bed with light yellow covers. It had a fluffy red, star-shaped pillow. There was also the strong aroma of cookies, vanilla, and freshly-baked goods.

Seriously, what was with the smell of cookies?

There were toys- dolls, cards, and board games- scattered across a medium sized white rug. It had mud and dirt stains over it, though, so the white was more of a yellow color now. Beside the bed was a nightstand. There was a yellow lava lamp that was obviously off, but underneath, there was a drawer.

Red ignored it, much to Roman's curiosity.

She bent down instead, rummaging under the bed. Pale hands pulled out a red toy treasure box. Silver eyes looked at green. Her head turned to the drawer, signaling him to look through.

Roman obeyed. He opened the cream-colored drawer, interested in its contents.

There were books, more cards, and finally a music box.

A red, wooden box with swirls and stars carved into the toy.

He looked at Red, who only confirmed that she was searching for the box.

With a push of a golden button, the box sprung to life. A small princess rose from her sleep and began to turn, spinning to a tune. An instrumental melody filled the room, the princess graceful on her feet.

 _'Neo would have loved this.'_

Jewelry had rested inside the box. Earrings that glimmered, bracelets that twinkled under the torch's light, and a single necklace that shone brightly. He caught sight of a key, a cheap-looking, rusty, old key.

He handed Red the key.

While she struggled to open the box, he wondered who the room belonged to.

Was it a child? If he was naive and not as bright, he would have thought that some devoted (and presumably rich) family had built a tiny room for a dead kid. Maybe that came to his mind first, but then it crept to him that the room was more of a lair or somewhere to hide.

But for who?

Red was finally digging through the box, the young woman smiling slightly.

He took a peek and saw the box was filled with objects. Journals, little trinkets, envelopes- the list went on and on.

Yet even if Red cared so much about the items, she only took a handful.

On purpose or not, he couldn't really tell what she took. Red might not trust him fully, even if the circumstances probably would force her to eventually.

He did see a dagger- one of fine metal. It had the design of a rose engraved on the handle, and it was enveloped in an aesthetically pleasing, red-colored, leather pouch. She gazed at it for a long time, eventually deciding to take the object. She took some envelopes, flipped through journals before discarding all but a black one, and took another item.

She stood, hands clutching to a scroll.

Could it be her scroll? Or was it a backup? Did it even work? How did she know it would be there?

What was this room? Was it hers? Was it a hide-out? He had so many questions, where could he begin?

Once the scroll was powered on, she began rapidly typing. Fingers flew across the keyboard.

 _"You wanna grab anything?"_ A monotone voice coming from the scroll questioned.

Roman blinked. The man glanced over the drawer but didn't find the jewelry to be much valuable. Maybe it was and he honestly just didn't care. He looked over the toys, before eyes set on a certain something.

 _"Let's leave this way up."_ She motioned to a ladder that rested against the wall.

He pushed the deck of cards inside his pocket and only nodded.


	3. At first she chose solitaire

**A/N:** I hate myself. I'm disappointed in myself. I can never stick to schedules but I'm trying. Besides, my fam finally fixed our house after hurricane Harvey so like,,,,and then I have a project and a convention so rip. Then I fell on concrete at boxing and my ankle's all types of messed up, two days after my phone literally broke and I tried getting money to repair it. Life sucks.

Anyways, my fav chapter is coming up after this so :) Thank you for all the reviews/favorites/follows!

Fair warning, this story will include a hell lot of Neo flashbacks and references. Don't worry, the last chapters WILL have you crying :) Sorry I didn't mention the number of flashbacks etc.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own RWBY.

 **a deck of cards**

 **chapter 0 2 \- at first she chose solitaire**

"Once upon a life, there was a family who lived in the woods. There was a very, very, bad, big wolf who lived there, too." Two uneven ponytails swung excitedly, creating a storm of pink and brown. "The wolf was very bad and mean, so one day he took a stroll in the woods with a very big ax."

There was a hint of wonder in the young storyteller's voice. Fresh eyes scanned the room as if inviting anyone to dare interrupt her tale.

"He went to the little cabin in the woods and swung at the door. The family was still asleep, and the moon reflected on his ax!" She smirked.

"One by one they all fell down. Until he got to the baby's crib, a newborn named Rose, but somehow she wasn't there. The baby had tumbled out of the crib earlier, rolled out the house, and swirled the entire forest."

At this point, the flashlight flickered briefly. There was a small commotion in the crowd, but they were hushed by the girl in the spotlight.

"And then she landed in a-"

The story had been interrupted by the sound of clapping.

"Now, that is enough Neo." A sheepish young man in his early twenties awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. A gloved finger switched the classroom's auditorium light on.

The entirety of the five first grade classes blinked in response. The young kids' shared a mixture of awe, shock, and horror.

Seven-year-old Neopolitan (Neo, as everyone called her nowadays) gaped in annoyance at her guardian.

"I haven't finished reading the three little pigs!" She wailed. "The baby's supposed to get eaten by a-"

There was a little something about Neo that had been unsettling to him. It was a weird, uncomfortable feeling, but when the six-year-old crossed his path, his already twisted life took an unexpected turn.

Parenting- perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Neo was grim for someone of her age (and height).

Standing at exactly four feet, she had the ugliest mix of pink and brown hair. She had babbled to Roman that she had shoplifted hair dyes the day before with her street buddies (the children of the corn, as he would call them) and they had taken it to heart to give her a nice hair color (they saw it in some magazine clipping for a neopolitan ice cream cake, much to the irony).

There was a huge grin on her dirty face, a torn, pink dress (which she also shoplifted, apparently) with an ugly, mud-covered bow wrapping her awfully thin body.

Roman was twisted. He was fucked up inside, macabre, lonely, and tired. Oh, and he lacked empathy.

Yet as heartless as he was, he remembered taking the stranger in. He recalled the little things- the way her eyes lit up at the sight of a bed, the squeal she made when he gave her a stuffed animal, and the shock at the sight of a full meal.

There was also the first time she ate ice cream.

Behind her little cheerful appearance, the girl was off. She was twisted and equally ruthless. She was uncaring yet passionate. She was careless yet careful.

In some ways, he saw her as a successor to his infamous criminal empire.

In some ways, she deserved better.

Neo followed him. He led the way. They moved in sync.

But there was something off about the girl who read a story about crime and murder by a godamn wolf and claimed it was the three little pigs to a whole auditorium of school kids.

He finally figured it out when they had their first trip, to no other than trespassing Beacon Academy's own graveyard.

His successor had asked for a family trip.

"Amarillo said she always had them." The girl rambled.

She tossed a can of tuna into her pink bag and continued.

"They went camping or ghost hunting. Her dad took her to the last one a lot, though they never found anything. Anyway, he died afterward and she tried taking us on a trip, but we lived in the streets so it defeated the purpose."

Neo was nine years old now. Her tenth birthday was rapidly approaching, she was a little bit taller (not really), and she chatted a bit too much.

"You're taking me camping, right?"

Roman shrugged.

"Sure, why not."

Like he knew she would, she glowed for what seemed to be a minute. She raced around the kitchen, stuffing more cans in her tiny bag.

"Don't pack the house away." A stern voice warned. "Also, I doubt I know any good sites for camping around here."

"I know one." She stuffed her head out the cabinet. "And trust me,"

The unsettling grin of Neopolitan had never changed, not at all.

"It's a perfect spot."

 _/02/_

 _'In loving memory of Penny Polendina_ _who keeps us moving forward, even in death.'_

In retrospect, there was no way to read those word engraved into the old, sad tomb.

Unlike Pyrrha's grave, Penny's was small. It wasn't grand, it lacked any lackluster that the other held, and it didn't even have a statue. The grave was so tiny that he swore if they hadn't crawled out of it, he would have never have paid attention to it.

Roman heaved for air.

The sunset's light blinded his green gaze for a second and he grimaced. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes as Red climbed out of the grave.

"Why the graves?"

He wanted to ask about the hideout. About the next stop. About something in all this madness. Yet those were the only words that left his mouth, much to his own dismay.

Did he meet Penny?

Yes, he had cursed her as a meddling fool once.

That and she looked distastefully familiar.

 _"I let them die once. I'm not letting them die again."_ With that, the conversation was over.

In his many years, the years laced with traces of sadness and dread of a tired man and a depressed teenager, he never thought he'd stand here again.

There was much to look at that he felt overwhelmed. The ground he stood in was still soft, and the crunching of dead leaves under his boots reminded him to stay in touch with his reality.

He was dizzy for a second, and he felt time whirl around him. There was a fire starting in his heart, anxiety, and agony building up in the ex-conman.

For a split, faint moment Red was gone. In front of him was a pink backpack on the back of nine year old.

The anxiety was gone with the moment.

Green eyes meet with silver, but he swore that they were a distinct shade of pink and brown.

There were no more questions for Red.

He had answers, the ones he had learned by accident years ago.

They were in Beacon's graveyard, the haunting site far from Beacon Academy's actual school. It was the place everyone knew existed, yet everyone would launch into instant denial when provoked. No one wandered here, they had to be invited in. At least, back when the morbid area was a secret.

People ignored it, even if the controversy had sparked.

There were no bodies there, so Beacon had only fabricated fake tombs instead. They were empty and lacking.

Once people found out and someone finally said, "Hey guys, this is fucked up," they revised the area. Well, this area was let forgotten. Beacon built their own memorial hall, with every fallen and honorable huntress and hunter having their own little memorial piece.

Red trailed in front of him. They passed the graves, her shoulder rolled back. She didn't glance at him once.

When Red beckoned him forward to her motorcycle, they spoke no words. The memories of both Red and Neo would be left behind, slipping like the nonexisting ghosts in the graveyard.

 _"They said my mom was here." Neopolitan's flashlight lit the little path ahead, the freshly abandoned graveyard coming to full view._

 _"The graves are empty."_

 _She ignored his comment, turning in her sleeping bag. How Roman agreed with Neo to sleep here, he didn't know. This place gave him the chills._

 _"I wanna be buried here."_

 _"No one's buried here."_

 _The girl gave a faint smile._

 _"Maybe you can sneak my body in here."_

 _The breeze rustled the trees' green leaves._

 _"I could be special. At least, for once."_

They were on the road again, the graveyard slipping from their view. The fresh scent of trees chased, the sun's rays threatening to disappear at any moment. The birds chirped from a distance, a raven flying above and zooming past them. He could hear the roaring of the powerful engine, the faint smell of gas.

The duo continued on the road, uncertain of both their futures.

Roman soon lost count of how long Red had been driving for.

They were still in the woods, though they had emerged from most of what he would call the _shady_ ones. He referred to that as a jumbled up mess of trees and plants and roots and all that nature crap.

The land they traveled through was mostly field at this point.

He hadn't seen the night sky in a long time.

Stars shone and twinkled under the power of the moon, who was their own little ruler. It was a full moon, which was nice considering it would be their only light source.

"Red, where are we heading to?"

She doesn't respond.

Well, of course, she can't, but still! An acknowledgment would be nice!

Red kept driving until they reached a town. With no further ado, a sign welcoming them to civilization came into view.

 _"Welcome to Viridi!"_ There was also graffiti scrawled underneath, _"Get lost!"_

"How humble."

Personally, the retired criminal hadn't stepped foot into Viridi in his entire life. Why would he? Any good, decent thief would know the assholes in Viridi were absolutely no help whatsoever.

It was a hotspot for any unlawfulness and easy to accidentally get lost in for any wandering tourist. Though towns ruled by bandits were common in Mistral, there were some in Vytal, too.

Viridi was just a spot filled with just about anything- criminals, murderers (not as frequently), fugitives, and thieves.

Luckily, he was all of the above.

What business would someone as innocent as Red have to do here?

Red stopped in front of a hotel- _Chartreuse: Making your friends green with envy since '02!_

She parked the motorcycle and getting off, instead went to properly chain it to prevent theft. In all honesty, Roman figured this would be the last time they'd see their damn method of transportation.

The night was clear. There was no fog or rain, only a cool breeze. It wasn't overly chilly, which Roman was thankful for. This weather was perfect, at least to him.

The hotel stood at three feet tall. In its glorious days, the building could have passed as a rich and delicate mansion, perhaps inhabited by one of the finest families in Vytal. Now, the grey windows of the black brick house stood cracked and dusty, as if they had never been washed after their fall from glory.

Thick, dark vines wrapped around the structure, as a predator did to their defenseless prey. The place was cloudy dark, surrounded by an aura of unholy deeds.

The pair walked through the chipped, wooden doors of the dreaded hotel. Inside was another story, almost identical to what Roman would have expected.

Loud chatter erupted from the lounge, bandits and other mischievous people holding big jars of beer and cheering between themselves. A woman stood at the reception desk, her poised, petite figure completely not fitting into the picture.

Red sauntered towards her. She ignored the hoots from the criminals, who obviously had no idea who she was.

It was good for her identity to remain hidden because the criminals could not be trusted at all. If Cinder was looking for Red in exchange for a reward, he sure as hell knew they would jump at the shot. They were fools at best, blinded by the empty promises of money and riches that their greedy hearts could not contain.

At the desk, she lightly tapped on the bell for the woman's attention.

The young woman blinked, slightly in surprise at Red's appearance. There was a spark of faint recognition in the female's chocolate brown eyes, but she quickly cleared her throat and politely inquires, "Who are you looking for?"

With a more clear view and a light that didn't flicker for once, Roman realized the young girl was a faunus. She had two long bunny ears and for some reason, he thought he saw her in Red's early days.

His partner pulled her scroll out and typed out _'Can you refill ice for the machine?'_

The faunus smiled. She pulled a key from underneath the desk, tossed it to Red and brought out a bucket.

"Good to see you alive, Ruby."

From there, she took off and walked towards another room, leaving them to their own devices.

Red, or Ruby (he liked his name better, it was more artistic in his mind), walked to the stairs. They climbed up, keys dangling in her trembling hands.

Their destination was a room on the second floor. It was room 013, ironically a fabled unlucky number. Red slid the key into the hole, turned it and there was a faint click. The door opened to a generic and ordinary bedroom.

The wallpaper was cream colored, there were two beds with black sheets and white pillows and a nightstand in between. A knocked up lamp resided on the nightstand, along with a small remote that was destined to control the A.C. There were other less glamorous features, such as a closet accompanied with a couple of hangers, a bathroom, and a blow dryer.

What sparked his interest was a monitor. It was beside one of the beds on the left. There was a buzzing sound from the computer.

They shut the door.

Roman sat on one of the beds. He stretched his arms and legs, tension escaping from his body.

His female companion was more interested in the device. She sat on the other bed and turned the computer on.

It sparked to life in a matter of seconds. A loading sign popped on the screen before a welcome page appeared.

"The CTT tower fell years ago."

Ever since then, communication throughout kingdoms was impossible. Roman knew there were no other possible ways to communicate outside of kingdoms. Sure, time had passed by for him. Maybe in four years there was a chance of success.

 _'I'm not here to communicate.'_

Fingers flew across the keyboard once more. Red typed in a command and another screen appeared.

 _'A video.'_

"This is Weiss Schnee reporting."

The feed glitched for a second before the Schnee Dust Company heiress came into view.

Judging by her appearance, this was from four years ago. The heiress looked fresh and young, intimidating blue eyes showing signs of worry.

"This is the last day I can wait for you. I set up a message for you if you ever get the chance to watch this.' She paused, another glitch interrupting her speech. "It's been three months from the fall of Beacon. I don't know what happened, but you disappeared three days ago. Our mission was meant for a period of a week, which has long expired."

Red's body language had changed. She wasn't in her protective stance anymore but in a more calm manner. There was a hint of sadness in her silver eyes, and she reached for the scar across her lips.

"Yang has no reported activity. Neither does Blake, and there are rumors among the rebels that she...ran away." The girl stops herself as if letting the news sink in for Red.

"I have to go. To Atlas, home." The last word came out with a small cry, a distorted noise that slipped past her throat. She shook her head, biting her bottom lip.

"This is the most I can do. Atlas is in a calmer state, but the military has become...corrupt. Remember...Remember the little plan we always had?" There was hope in her voice. "It has been done. Everything's buried between us."

The Grave. She was speaking about the grave.

"I wish you the best...Wherever you are, Ruby, I believe in you." Weiss gave a ghost of a smile. "I- I mean WE believe in you."

Ruby blinked. She gently placed a finger on the monitor as Weiss recited her final words.

"This is Weiss Schnee, reporting out. Keep moving forward."

Then she was gone.

The haunting image of Weiss Schnee registered in Roman's mind, and he wondered how she was now. What had become of the Schnee's and their empire? Had they met an abrupt end? Or were they thriving? He found the latter hard to believe.

Silence followed the end of the video for at least two minutes. Red held her head down, shoulders slumped. Her gaze was glued to her boots.

"Red?" He needed to break the ice between them. The moment he heard no response, he called back for her.

She turned to look at him the second time.

"We should eat. Then rest for the night."

Red nodded.

There was a phone nailed to the wall. Roman got up, looked at the guide and called for food.

In a matter of seconds, the same faunus knocked on the door. The man opened it for her, and she casually strolled in with a tray of food.

She set it on a bed, turned to Roman and gave a look of distrust.

"Ruby?"

Red glanced at her.

 _'Nice seeing you, Velvet.'_

 _/02/_

The two girls had erupted into chatter- well, Velvet did. Ruby, Red, whatever was into small talk. It was the fastest she could type, due to Velvet actually talking fast. Her shy demeanor had fooled Roman, much to his disgrace.

He witnessed the two talk as if they were in their own world.

"So what now?"

Ruby chewed her food. She typed out a response.

 _"We get everyone back."_

The faunus had explained that after Beacon's fall, she had joined the resistance. Once Ruby disappeared and Weiss left to Atlas, she had retired.

Cinder's corruptance grew. Once Vytal fell, she took Mistral in tow. The other two kingdoms were safe, at least for now. Atlas was struggling with a civil war- something about military and civil disobedience.

There were no signs of Yang or Blake.

Weiss was disowned and not much of her had been heard. Legend said (more like nosy neighbors, anyway) that she was locked up in her room, wilting each day.

The other team, the one that had Pyrrha Nikos was missing as well.

That was all she knew, besides the fall of the rebellion.

 _"You can help."_

"No." She shook her head. "This is my life now."

Velvet worked at the shady hotel, sleeping in it at night. It was a decent lifestyle according to her. She missed her teammates and yearned for Cinder's fall, but at the same time, had committed to being just a citizen.

Ruby looked disappointed.

"Where did you come from?"

 _"From Beacon's ruins."_

That sentence sparked interest in Roman.

"Did Cinder hold you-"

 _"No. We moved around often. I was blindfolded most of the time. I wasn't sure of my location."_ She stopped, cracked her knuckles and continued. _"We arrived in Beacon. I saw a chance. I ran."_

Velvet glanced at Roman.

"Why him?"

 _"We both need something. I also guess you could say we're both twisted."_

"How did you know where I was?" Roman joined in the conversation. "How-"

Red didn't reply to that. Not immediately, and after a careful consideration of words, she typed.

 _"I was Cinder's favorite."_

No one asked for any clarification. Instead, Roman inquired something else.

"Where are we going?"

 _"Wherever they are."_

"Will it be only the of you?" Her old friend wondered aloud.

 _"I was hoping we could connect with Weiss. Or Blake. Or Uncle Qrow."_

"Actually, Red." The only male in the room began. "I do have a certain connection on the outskirts of Vale."

She looked at him and nodded.

 _"That's a start."_

The conversation came to an end once Velvet stood up. She dusted off her skirt, smiling at Ruby and taking the tray of soup and bread.

"Good luck, Ruby."

It was deeper into the night. For the first time, Roman was sleepy. He yawned, resting on the bed. It felt like bricks and he missed the bed from the shady apartments.

"We need to rest, Red."

Much to his shock, the young woman agreed to his suggestion. Lights were turned off except for the lamp, per Ruby's request, and they went into their own beds.

The A.C. didn't work and the night had become seemingly colder.

Roman huddled underneath the sheets, clicking his tongue. It had been an hour since they both had set off to sleep, yet Red had not blinked once.

He wondered if four years ago Red had asked for his assistance, would she be more trusting? Would she be able to sleep in the same room with a criminal? Because this Red's trusting ability was beyond broken.

In all honesty, he was very proud of her. Hell, he wanted to applaud and cheer her on. She had obviously thought about the possibility of Roman backstabbing her and taking any of her possessions.

Weirdly enough, he felt the same.

Was he to be disposed of? Was Red capable of killing him? Maybe she didn't even know where Neo was, maybe she'd carelessly murder him once she obtains what she wanted.

Would she be capable of that?

She had murdered both a guard and a maid- maybe she would do the same for him.

Either way, he wouldn't blink.

"I won't kill you, Red." By now, the man had grown tired of this stupid game. He wouldn't hurt her because he needed her for Neo's sake.

Yet Red didn't trust him.

 _"Hey, Roman!" Neo couldn't sleep in the graveyard because of course she couldn't!_

 _They both were unable to, although Roman's reasons were mostly for trespassing and the authentic feeling of creepiness._

 _Neo was just...well, she was jumping with excitement._

 _"Don't scream." He mumbled from his sleeping bag.  
_

 _"Let's play cards!" The girl said with a huge grin on her little face._

Roman slowly sat up. He groaned, rubbing his eyes and reaching into his pocket.

He pulled the deck of cards he had taken from the hideout. He eyed Red, whose silver gaze stared back.

"Cards?"

 _"You don't even know how to play," Roman said bluntly. "Besides, I'm sleepy."_

 _"I can play solitaire." She snapped in exasperation._

She sat up straight and shrugged. Pulling her scroll out, she typed a sentence.

 _"Not a cards fan."_

"And...?"

 _"I can only play solitaire..."_

He let out a sigh.

"I guess that's the game both of us are playing by ourselves." He handed her the deck. "One-handed?"

 _"One-handed solitaire."_


	4. His ego made him choose poker

**A/N:** Another busy **year** , but here's another chapter while things sorta pick up! I know this sounds rather eh, but I'd appreciate any feedback (the last chapter barely had any). Turns out I had a completely different script of the chapter titles so rip to that. Thank you, hope you enjoy! This is kinda my favorite chapter, aside from chapter 7 ;)

 **Disclaimer:** RWBY isn't my property.

 **a deck of cards**

 **chapter 0 3 \- his ego made him chose poker**

"It's perfect." A young face pressed against the windows of the jewelry store. Taking a shaky breath, she looked back at her guardian with a faint smile. "It's _perfect_."

Roman twirled his cane thoughtfully. The ginger's gaze landed on the object of Neo's affection; a rather old, worn-out looking music box. It had a tag next to it that read _clearance_ , making him frown slightly.

"Neo." He cleared his throat, a gloved finger reaching out to tap the window. "Wouldn't you rather have a necklace?"

The tall, lean man had referred to a silver butterfly necklace. The jewelry twinkled and gleamed, a red ruby being the center of the extravagant piece. It cost a pretty penny, but Roman paid no mind.

"No. This." A slender finger gestured again. "Please?"

She pouted, her eyes switching its signature pink and brown color. Cocking her head to the side for effect, she looked between Roman and the music box.

Sighing, he let out a grunt.

"Fine." He positioned his hat, forcing a smile. "Remember what I said?"

The young girl nodded, holding her parasol enthusiastically.

"Well then, let's get going."

With that, the criminal duo entered the store, the little bell ringing in warning of their arrival.

"I'd advise everyone to stay calm and listen to me. This _is_ a robbery."

* * *

The motorcycle was still in its parking spot.

The partners had left their shady housing behind before dawn. Red had only said goodbye to Velvet, who pulled her into a hug before she could protest. The Faunus was kind enough to hand them two brown bags, each carrying food and snacks for the road. For a second, he felt like a little kid on a field trip again.

They both thanked her for the goodies. Before Roman could step out the door and follow Red's trail, the young woman put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't hurt her." There was something different about this Velvet. It shone through her, the nature of her past life- back when she was a huntress and her hunger for justice was always lingering in the air around her. "Because if Ruby Rose ends up dead soon, I will know who to look for."

Roman gave a nod, mockingly bowing. "Of course, my dear."

Viridi's welcoming sigh was left abandoned. They rode off again, into the rising sun and a world that held even a greater mystery.

"It's a club outside of Vale." Roman's voice was hushed by the running engine. "I have a friend who owes me a lot."

He had given her the address before they set off. She punched in the numbers and her scroll beeped in acceptance, a map emerging on the screen. The scroll had been beeping throughout the ride, indicating that it was losing battery.

The man had reassured her that they would be safe and that she could charge the device soon. Red nodded, turning her gaze back to the road ahead.

It was around eight when they arrived. He knew the business would be closed off for the rest of the day, the result of another long night of parties and drunk people dancing around. The doors would reopen around ten at night and the cycle would restart.

In retrospect, he had no idea what he was expecting. The flashy club was still...there. It needed a paint job quite desperately and the red carpet that rolled into the entrance was dirty and had stains of puke. That carpet was always washed every day, anyway, so he doubted he could complain about it.

Parking in the back per Roman's instructions, the younger of the two stood shakingly. The lack of sleep was evident in her pale face, her bags getting seemingly bigger within one night. She had spent the night trying to remember how to play Solitaire, ultimately giving up and throwing the cards back at Roman.

"Wait behind me." Roman casually strolled in front of her. He twirled his hand, the fact that he was missing his cane bringing a frown on his face. Dull eyes narrowed. Oh, how he needed his weapon.

There was a sign on the back door. _Staff only!_ It read, and the ginger tore the poster off. There was a key taped to the back, much like he had expected.

 _'Somethings never change.'_

The grin remained hidden from Red, who waited impatiently. She tapped her boot on the solid ground.

The key slipped into the hole and the door opened in command. Beckoning her to follow, they wandered into the darkness.

The club was a disaster. A functioning disaster, a comforting mess and a sign that _he_ was still around.

Silver eyes looked around, almost as if she too was familiar with the place. Tapping her chin, she mouthed an "Oh".

"What is it, Red?"

Taking her scroll out, she typed.

 _"I've been here before."_

"Ah." The conversation was left apart. The ex-conman made his way to the bar.

"Junior! You around?" He slammed his hand against the counter. "I'd like a French Martini."

"We're closed, shut up and-" An exceptionally tall, muscular man came into view. Gray eyes bore wrinkles of age and stress around them, a permanent scowl on his face. "Roman...?"

"Long time no see, Hei."

 _Breathe._

He hadn't seen Hei in years. Junior, that being his nickname, hadn't aged much since the last time they met. There was the presence of wrinkles and the streaks of white on his black hair, yet time hadn't taken advantage of him.

"Roman." Junior set down his bottle of water, brows furrowed. "How? When- Her?" He blinked, turning to Red. His bafflement was ended with a, "What?"

"Hello to you too." The response was sarcastic and very much Roman-like.

Taking a seat, he propped his elbows on the counter. He tapped the seat next to him and Red sat down, albeit shifting uncomfortably.

"Where's my French Martini? Oh, and for the lady, get her a-"

 _"Strawberry sunrise. Please, and thank you."_

The club was eerily silent. Granted, it had been shut down for the day. That and it was lacking the usual loud music that made Roman's head throb and ache. The runaway paradise for most teenagers and questionable businessmen (with _questionable_ intentions that Junior had learned to turn a blind eye to) was empty and bare, stripped from all of its security men and any employee. He remembered that the owner would only stay behind to pay any bills and fix anything needing repair.

Before he could look around in awe at the place he hadn't seen for _years_ , he was interrupted by the harsh _clink_ of his glass being set down.

Junior stood in front, gently pushing the other glass towards Red. She stared at it quizzically, almost as if the club owner had put poison in the burning liquid. Hesitantly, she finally raised it and much to the failure of Roman's expectations only took the little pink umbrella to toy with.

"Well, I'm surprised your club is running." He began, taking a sip of his drink. He marveled at it for a second, the perfect blend of Chambord, pineapple juice, and vodka dancing in his mouth. This was the first drink he ever had in his teenage years and was surprised by the opportunity to have it in his bare hands. He had taken a grim liking towards more hardcore and elegant drinks in the past few years, but this was enough.

"Eh." The fact that Junior refused to drink alcohol stayed in his mind, which was quiet humorous remembering the establishment he ran. Instead, he drank from a water bottle. "Maybe Vale is in ruins, but you know hormones are still up and running."

"But not to its normal rate...?"

"Actually, business is booming. People out there think it's the apocalypse- they're drinking like there's no tomorrow."

Roman nodded, bringing the glass to his lips. His eyes traced to Red briefly, who looked rather embarrassed as she attempted to swallow. Once she did, the fluid rolled off her chin and she made a face of disgust.

"Easy there, don't get too drunk." He mocked. A strawberry sunrise was a light drink, though he doubted Red knew that. She probably never drank before, on second thought.

She made another face, glaring daggers as she put the bottle down.

"Where were you?" Hei frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you were killed!"

Sighing, the ex-criminal shook his head. "Not quite yet. Cinder took me to a hiding spot. Believe me, death would have been better."

"For four years?"

"Four tiring years."

There was another pause of silence before Junior finally said something else, though Roman had hoped it would come up in the conversation later.

"Neo was looking for you."

His fingers slipped into his pocket, the cool metal of the lighter reminding him of his little jewel. Oh, how he wished she had been hiding with Junior all along. It had been in their plans at some point, although she was too stubborn to follow. And surely, Cinder had more interest in her.

"And how is she?" _Fuck empathy_ was ringing in his mind, biting his tongue for the sake of not showing emotions.

 _Fuck empathy. Fuck empathy. Fuck empathy._

"I haven't seen her in three years. She stuck around for a while, then she just left. I went to her apartment...I care, y'know, but everything was in its place. Nothing was untouched."

He swallowed the bullet.

"Little Red agreed to help me find her, in exchange for my help in finding her teammates."

"Ah, those nuisances."

If fire shot out of those silver eyes, Junior and his club would be in the fury of flames that even Cinder would be green with envy.

Red shifted, eyeing Junior carefully and slipping out her scroll.

"Oh, charge the damn thing please."

He attempted to ignore the obvious tension between the two. Frowning, he turned to face Red.

She had given his friend the scroll, who left to plug in the device. Afterward, he returned. By then, Red had out a pen and paper.

 _"Do you know where Cinder is?"_

"No. As if I ever had the honor of being enlisted in her army." He rolled his eyes at that. "Rumors say she's been busy trying to get Atlas to fall if that helps."

 _"I believe that does. Do you know anything useful?"_

"Well, don't you remind me of Neo. No, I don't think I do."

Roman understood what he meant- Neo was eternally straightforward and strictly business only (Oh, how he missed Neo!)

Cocking her head to the side, she nodded and put down her pen.

"You should teach her sign language."

"Perhaps." Ginger replied, shrugging. "Neo never quite got used it."

"But she isn't Neo."

A stillness fell over them once more. Red wasn't Neo- Roman was not a senseless idiot. The parallels were easy to draw, memories resurfacing to view in his mind lately. Neo was not Red because Neo was Neo.

"I know," Roman answered grimly. He was sure Red had her own little gesture to defend herself, yet he decided it wasn't worth glancing over. "I need a favor, actually."

Junior waited, before responding with a, "What is it?"

"Assitance."

The tall man put down his bottle, rising to pace around the room. Placing a hand on his chin, his frown deepened. "I can't help. I'm old, Roman. And so are you." The glare on his friend's face was enough to get him started. "My men are available, though."

At that, Red quickly scribbled something down. She gave the note to Roman, who chuckled.

"The men I, a fifteen-year-old with no experience, took down with no effort?" He read the note. Grinning, he pointed towards Red. "She has a point, you know."

"The twins are always an option." Junior scratched his head awkwardly. "I doubt they'd agree to...whatever ugly plan y'all have...What is the plan, again?"

"And that is where we should start." The man looked back at the young woman next to him, her legs danging and innocently swinging. She dared not glance up, hand writing a new note. Handing the neat paper to Junior, she winked.

 _"Off with the queen's head!"_

The Malachite twins agreed to the plan, albeit both a bit stunned by the abruptness of it all. They didn't have much going on nowadays, as Melanie put it in the simplest terms, "I'm so sick and tired of dealing with drunk, lewd, old men and the pay ain't shit!" Both agreed that if they were to die soon, which they figured would happen anyway, they wanted to be remembered in a rebellious fashion. That and they despised Cinder Fall, for their own little reasons unknown.

Junior had mourned their departure, pretending to wipe fake tears from his eyes. The twins had been in the club for as long as they could walk and hold a knife properly. Once they failed to attend combat school ("It would have been a waste of four years and then Beacon fell so!" Melanie cried), they resigned their lives to inheriting the club when Junior _accidentally_ passed to the next life. Yeah, whatever that meant.

Roman sat with Red outside the club, waiting for the Malachites to get ready. The girls bragged about how they had different clothing for each occasion and said this day would call for their _wannabe huntress_ outfits. Again, he didn't want to know what they meant by that. He did notice that Red looked irritated by the twins' mere presence, though.

 _"By help, you mean adding them to this whole massive-"_ She stopped typing, instead deciding to glare at the man.

"Ah, Little Red. Jealous much?" He tapped his cigar- a gift from Junior. "I detested Cinder, but I worked with her anyway."

 _"That's different."_

He puffed into the cigar, smiling wickedly at her. "Maybe. But c'mon Little Red, won't you rather have more help saving your friends?"

 _"The only one I need to save is Yang."_ Red stepped up, dusting her clothing off and frowning. _"I want to find Blake and Weiss, don't get me wrong, but Weiss said they had to leave. And Team JNPR..."_

They both stared in silence. Sighing, the Girl in Red gently squeezed the dagger in her makeshift belt. _"We need weapons. I miss Crescent Rose."_

"Your oversized garden tool?" The Ginger grinned.

Red sent another glare and was about to type when Miltia (or was it Melanie?) rushed out. The other twin followed in tow, lowering her head as she shyly gazed at Red.

Silver eyes rolled and Red scoffed.

"Where to?" Melanie/Miltia inquired.

"You know, I was expecting you two to finish each other's sentences." Roman humorously spoke, earning angry looks from one and the other blushing in embarrassment. Quickly, he cleared his throat at the realization that he was surrounded by three very pissy girls who had weapons.

"Actually, that's up to Red."

The trio turned to the ex-huntress in training. Frowning, she looked at the blue sky and inhaled. Exhaling, she turned back to her makeshift team with a smile.

 _"Mistral. I need to get to Mistral."_ She faced the Malachites, nodding. _"You two spoke of having weapons, but Roman and I are at a clear disadvantage. For that, I need assistance in finding a new weapon."_

Red's hand reached for the dagger, bringing it up to view and flaunting a devious smile. _"I fear this may not do when I slice Cinder's head off."_

* * *

Terrifying thoughts gnawed at his dry skin, the gentle breeze doing nothing to ease his nerves. Oh, Red had matured. The idea of Cinder being executed at the hands of Red, though dare he say inviting, was livid. After all, he had requested to stand beside the young woman while she did so, savoring each and every moment.

He had say in this issue. He was her decoy for so long, only to be discarded as another worthless pawn. No, he would strive for vengeance and be there to watch the mastermind fall to her knees, head rolling off and framing her horrified expression. Then he would take a sip of wine, the most extravagant and expensive, and cackle while Red breathed and heaved, excitement coursing through her veins. They'd preserve the sword as memory and crown the day of her death as the true rising of their sins.

Roman Torchwick did not give a shit about Vale. He did not care for Beacon. All he needed was Neopolitan safe and Cinder dead- that was all his damned soul needed to rest. This was a suicide mission with a high goal that he refused to believe would fail, though a tiny part of him sparked and regused to follow in.

 _"Get Neo and run off. Get Neo and run off."_ He could leave Red to face the Queen herself, because he sure as hell did not care about her. No, her fate was her fate and he did not have to endure it. Finding Neo would stay his only goal, even if he wanted to be present for Cinder's glorious execution.

They could fail and face death. Neo too, if he had the _luck_ of finding her. He knew Red could have lied, yet he chose to fall into the heap of lies then face reality. Besides, Neo was a useful person. He doubted Cinder was dumb enough to discard his assistant so easily.

He reminded himself to breathe as he adjusted his grip on Red's waist. She had hated the action at first, glaring knives again before looking away. Motorcycles were annoying and although he had had his own in his teenage years, he honestly forgot how to use one. Biting his bottom lip, he watched the road ahead with careful eyes.

There was a world at some point, he dwelled, where Red would have spoken calmly to Cinder Fall. If it were up to her, which the task would not fall on her frail shoulders, she would prefer to spare her life and even try to propose imprisoning her. Then when news would fall to her ears of an execution, she'd have a hard time digesting the news. Or perhaps that vision of Red was screwed completely? It would be alright, she would say at some point.

Within that world, he always felt like the cat faunus (Blake, was it?) would be the one to engage in a sacrificial ritual, maybe even the Schnee if push came to shove. Yang would kill for Red, that he knew, but he couldn't see that for her. It was like she had taken the time to implant stories of fairies and gnomes to Red, which he didn't doubt. His point was that Red acted like she was enslaved into a bubble of innocence, though he figured she would have always shone with bravery.

Then he thought of, at the oddest of times, a book he read in his youth. He remembered the gentle sun rays blessing his skin as he skimmed through the pages, green searching for details of an idea that was beyond foolish now. Humans, aside from having a soul, had a miniscule bit of Grimm inside them that triggered all the _evil_ in the world. No, that was idiotic too think off.

They came to a halt, the engine dying out as Red pulled the keys on a whim. Eyeing the little mess of a house in front of them, she jumped off, but missed her landing and crashed to the floor instead. Quickly, he stepped off and bend down with a hand outstretched.

"Need a hand?"

She grunted, shaking her head and pushing herself up. Sighing, the harmed girl looked down at her damaged leg. Gesturing towards it, she pleaded for help silently.

Red must not have liked that idea. She was smart to be aware of her condition and whether she wanted it or not, get aid from Roman.

He reached down, pulling up her black pants. He had pressed a towel against her wound back at the hotel before departing and wrapped it in a thick gauze. Blood blossomed from the cut, the young woman whimpering and squirming under his touch. The dressing was left drenched in the red liquid, making him sigh.

"I'll fix this, Red. Don't fret over it, you just hurt yourself with your fall. This will pass." Roman gently rolled up her pants and stood back up. He turned to the crippled home as she got to her feet.

The duo turned to the house with an aura of mystery surrounding it. They could both sense it, the uneasiness of the place leaking through their pores.

"The Malachites will be here in thirty minutes." It had been Roman's idea for the twins to arrive after they did- to hush any suspicious activity. To both their surprise (he was sure Red would never admit it), the sisters rolled out with a motorcycle of their own, coated in red and white. They called it _The Ladybug,_ and when he stifled a laugh at the idea of naming your method of transportation, the word, "Bumblebee" left her mouth.

Nodding, both started towards the house. Roman felt his heart flutter and his lungs fill with anxiety once more. Oh, no, no. He had thought this would be easy, but he knew, oh, he knew, that things were easier being said than done. For a few seconds, he forgot how to breathe and he felt the air build up in his body as green eyes widened in sheer panic.

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

Red stepped aside. She looked at him and raised a brow, head cocked to the side. _"You okay?"_ She mouthed.

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

Ignoring her concern, he dreadfully walked to the front porch. It was dull and ugly, memories spurring from his mind of a once flouricent front yard with yellow tulips and pink orchids and a chipped red porch standing proudly. Black shoes kicked a pebble as he squatted to look for the key.

Little Roman was bright, exceptionally bright. But as intelligent as he was, he always forgot the keys to his old home. So one day, Mamma Torchwick took one look at him and grabbed the key, hiding it under the rug like any tired cliche. After he moved in with Junior years later, he too picked up on the habit of hiding his keys for Roman.

The rusty key was under the rug. Sighing, he flipped it over and reached for it. He wasn't surprised when he found it. Digging it into the slot, his lips formed a troubled smile as he pushed the door open.

"Let's get us a weapon, Red." The man mockingly bowed. "C'mon now, after you. Cinder can't find us here."

Could she? No, there was no existing record of him living here ever. The town was a ghost of a place now, no one lived here. Infested with Grimm, its people were probably smart enough to run or were dead. Now it was a blur of forestry. Her first look would be in Roman's apartments, the various complexed he lived or owned.

She scoffed, balling her hands into fist and raising her chin up high and wandering in. He followed, the door closing with a creak.

Pictures of his youth and childhood greeted him when he stepped in. He felt heavy and tired out of nowhere, ready to succomb to a sleep of serenity. Red trailed, silver eyes studying the insides of the house.

Questions would surely slip off her tongue soon. She'd ask where they were, how they could obtain a weapon, _how he knew this place_. He could brush them off, yes, because his ego would make him brush them off. And if she pestered and pulled a card and ask one single thing, he'd draw a joker and cancel her command. He was the King of Gambling, after all.

If it happened, then Roman would even dare answer her question with a pondering of his own, "What did _she_ do to you?"

He wondered, would he be cruel enough to summon that deadly question?

The halls were bleak and it smelled of rotting food. Roaches scattered around the floor, and he swore the sound of rats scurrying off bounced off the walls. Scrunching up his face in disgust, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced him to walk forward. He focused on the sound of Red's footsteps instead.

"Come here, Red. I'll fix you up."

He tugged at his bag and carried out the first aid kit he had packed from his old apartment. Motioning for her to take a seat on the dusty old couch, she took a deep breath as she settled in. Wearily, he made his way to the table right by and gently swept his hand over it, chuckling as dust whirled and danced in the air.

A candle was placed and he pulled out his lighter. With a movement of his fingers, flames hurriedly licked at the candle and the living room sprung to life.

Albeit an obvious mess and a scent of _oldness,_ Roman found he remembered where everything was perfectly fine. Right next to the ugly brown couch Red sat at was his father's rocking chair, where he would sit and sip a cold, icy beer after a day of hardwork. The table was where his mother would set down her tea and read quietly, ignoring the world around her.

Returning to Red, careful fingers tore the gauze with ease. She remained quiet while he worked, hands digging into the pockets of her red hoodie.

"There's clothes here. Old, but well enough for right now." The ginger mused. "The people who lived here perhaps have clothing. I believe they worked with clothes of huntsmen and huntresses, at least from what a former associate who gifted me this mystery claimed."

She nodded, teeth biting her bottom lip. Well, she ate up that lie.

He applied pressure briefly, enough to stop the blood and leave beads of red and wrapped it in another dressing.

"Let's take a look, I'm praying they had good senses of fashion and have something for me." The man dramatically placed a hand over his face, shutting an eye.

The walk to his mother's old workshop was not a silent one. The floor was rotten and needed repairing- that he had known for a while. His father promised such to his mother, but they were empty lies he had no interest in making true. Roman shifted his focus on the girl who walked by his side, hands pressed to the side like a puppet soldier.

The door was missing to the room. The second thing to note aside from the missing door was the smell of fabric and the sight of spiderwebs. Shaking his head in disapproval, he wandered in and lit another candle for guidance.

Racks of clothing were neatly aligned by each other. Smiling to himself, he reached for the thin fabrics and heaved.

He remembered his mom working here day and night. The huntresses and hunters part was true- they occasionally filled his home and spent summer nights laughing and conversing with the woman as she fixed their clothes or patched anything up. She had other cutsomers, ranging from people to outsiders.

Green turned to face Red. She was busy off rummaging too, gaining confidence but occasionaly looking his way. When their eyes met, she used it a chance and leap into a heap of questions.

 _"Where can we get weapons?"_

"Get better clothes, first." Roman pointed at her outfit of a hoodie and pants. "Are you really going to overthrow a Queen with that?"

A couple of minutes later, Red had grabbed several items that were up to her standards. She tugged at them, content with her choices. Pulling out her scroll, she typed, _"Where can I change?"_

He motioned towards the makeshift changing room his mother had built. It was just another area shielded away with curtains.

Watching her leave, the man pondered oer his choices. Although nothing could replace his beloved bowler hat and white coat, he found the first hat his mom made for him. It was black and had a red ribbon laced around the brim, an orange feather planted alongside. Chuckling, he felt the edge and comfort slipped into his system.

Because Red was still changing, Roman rapidly took off his clothes for another set. Black pants and an orange dress button up shirt graced his body in minutes. The ex-conman adjusted an elegant white trenchcoat, hands fixing the hat on his head. Hah, all he required was his cane and that could be easy to do.

Red stepped out as he finished changing. A red and white polka dot bomber jacket hugged her yellow fluffy dress, a belt on the fabric. She wore black leggings and the same black and red boots with a rose symbol on them.

"Representing your team now?" Her eyes traveled to his hat before hurt seeped into them.

She started to type.

 _"Nice hat, Torchwick."_

"Do you carry eyeliner by any chance? I'm suffering withdrawal syndromes."

For a moment, he thought Red would laugh. Instead, she cracked a smile and mouthed, "No."

Smirking, Roman noted her intrigue. "What is it, Red?"

Yeah, the girl wanted to know something. Fighting off her coldness, he was sure she'd swallow her anger and pride and ask eventually.

 _"How close were you to Neo?"_ The question cane out from the scroll. _"I was just wondering, really."_

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _Breathe._

He could give Red his history- his story. He could linger on details over the orphan he raised and the girl who would talk about cereals and world domination in the same sentence. Or perhaphs he would speak of the way her brown and pink eyes would move when she was up to no good (well, she was never up to good). But that was not the Neo Red had the pleasure of seeing- that was the depressed and mute Neo he so dearly protected from the world.

"Very."

What was an ego? The sense of someone's self-esteem or self-importance; the text book definition of the word ego. His ego was _big_ , he was so full of it he felt his body would explode into nothingness.

In his youth, he enjoyed card games such as poker. Cards were always his biggest passion, probably fueled by his love for lying. He had a good poker face, too, which was what often made him win and act cocky towards his opponent.

For the sake of his ego and his body stuffed with _fullness,_ he hid his emotions from Red.

"C'mon Red, let's go wait for the Malachites."

 _"But-"_

Roman Torchwick ignored her, walking off and leaving Red.


	5. The Eights went Crazy

**A/N:** This story will be exactly twelve chapters (excluding both the prologue and epilogue) for this story. If needed, I may change plans but for now, everything is outlined and yes, the ending is _established_.

Will there be a sequel? It's too early to say, but I've been asked. For now, **no**. Do the chapter titles hint at the ending? **Sorta** , depending on how **you depict them**.

Thank you for all the feedback, favorites and follows! This is close to hitting 100 followers- an incredible feat that I've never accomplished. I've been super busy lately, i'm a hospital surgeon teen volunteer sorta thing and ahhh, I've been busy! I'll come around to further edit this chapter!

 **a deck of cards**

 **chapter 0 4: the eights went crazy**

"Look! There's more!"

A sigh drawled from his lips, hands shoved into the pockets of his grey hoodie. The King of the Underground was, to say the least, severely underdressed in comparison to his companion. Not that he _minded_ , he was grateful for his choice when he lingered into the streets. Rain poured from the heavens, and his thoughts drifted on pinpointing the culprit for the Gods' anger. He wondered, could it be him? No, he was bad, but not awful-awful.

Roman had only agreed to leave the comforts of his newest apartment- yes, he had bought a new one for fun- to aid Neo in her little _science_ project. She didn't go to school anymore, so he wondered why on Remnant she thought that excuse could work on him.

Deciding to humor the girl, he followed as she hopped in front of him. She held a clear and empty jar and there was a twinkle of joy in her mismatched eyes. Pink gloves decorated her arms and a similar color-coded dress followed. Neo did not have an expensive taste (then again, she was eleven) and was more humble when it came to the things she owned. For an eleven year old, Roman strangely feared he had raised Neo to take happiness in a world that was too conflicting.

Life was wonderful, yes. Life was cruel, yes. Life was unfair, yes. Life would end, yes. Yet how could he drill all this depressing information into her young mind and still expect her to squeal when a puppy came on TV? There just wasn't a way!

"Roman!" She called out. "Hurry! I see them!"

Summer had settled into Vale. That meant a lot of things, especially considering how pleasant the weather was. Although humidity sucked and frizzed up his hair (an actual concern for the villain), he fell for the long days of work and the hot nights. Crickets chirped as the sun disappeared, the shattered moon taking its rightful place on its throne. There was a slight breeze and the night felt cool, yet alright. Life was good.

Meanwhile, Neo lived for the ice cream she could eat without Roman frowning at her choices. Granted, she ate the treats anyway during the cold, but at least now Roman did not have to scold her for it. The girl was growing up strong and healthy, partaking in occasional run-ins with the law like every other kiddo her age.

On the other hand, guilt would slip into his system and make him question his choices. It was up to Neo, but she saw him with such intense admiration that the choice was clear. Neo would be the heir to all his criminal antics- and that scared him just a little.

Roman dreamt of a world where Neo, his Neo, went to a combat school. This world was bright and colorful and loving, and his Neo would get accepted into, gosh, Beacon Academy. She'd graduate top of her class and be an honorable huntress with an _honorable_ job, unlike his. Somehow, maybe just maybe, this life of crime would leave her and somehow, even him. Those illusions pained him, mind wandering to his mother's words that he repeated with ease.

"Your life will be nothing like my life." He whistled, a cigarette departing from his lips. "I'm going to do what I have to do."

Mamma Torchwick did not expect him to fall into the grasp of criminals at a young age. _Be a hunter, son. Don't be like those kids here, getting a girl pregnant at fourteen and joining a gang. Make me proud._

"Roman! Look! I caught some!" Green eyes looked forward, and Neo held the jar up. It was no longer empty, filled with little green and yellow lights that flew from side to side in a drunken haze. She caught a handful of fireflies and was ecstatic.

"Yes, you did." He ruffled her hair affectionately, making her pout. "You're gonna let them out, right?"

The question made the younger girl tilt her head and mouth a, "Huh?" Facepalming, Roman gently placed a hand on her shoulder and motioned towards the fireflies that graced the night sky.

"Are you in a jar, Neo?"

"No...?" Neo was confused, definitely.

"Then?" He tapped the glass and it _clinked_. "Let them out later. Don't keep them from their home."

Still confused, she nodded and began to study the jar. Watching her, the realization that he would have to let her go, at some point, dawned upon him. He was basically a single father wrestling a criminal persona and still trying to get the best for his daughter (that wasn't his daughter, but still!) Neo would be free soon, unless she chose not to be.

No, he could not push that on her. She deserved so much better, so, so, much better.

The image of Neo playing with fireflies and releasing them from the jar before they left would remain in her mind. The sadness in her voice as she said goodbye tugged at his heart. He hoped in the future he wouldn't have to hear her be sad at all.

Then the future came and he realized he could at least _hear_ her.

* * *

Crazy Eights was another game he enjoyed, admittedly not always. The card game required stealth and speed- tons of it. His concentration would have to be solely in the game for him to win with the incredible ease he bragged about.

Sighing, he shuffled the deck of cards as he heard Red talk, well, type, out instructions to the Malachites. The electronic voice from the scroll could not replace her own childlike one and he aimed to remember how she sounded before her _injury_. Unamused, he glanced at the trio of females. Green eyes traveled to the scar that ran across her lips, and he tried picturing Red without it.

He wondered how Red had become mute. He doubted it was sickness unless her living conditions were that terrible and he soon retracted that statement because Cinder was a bitch. There was the possibility of it just being a birth defect that later on rolled out. He crossed that one out, figuring it made no sense. Perhaps a serious injury to the head, like Neo had w-

No. He stopped himself, shaking his head and pushing the cards into the pocket of his coat.

"Sorry for interrupting, Red." She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Where is the part that we find Neo?"

 _"Neopolitan was working with Cinder when I last saw her, hence how I found where you lived."_

Wait, Neo knew where he was imprisoned?! Relief swarmed his body but he soon realized that if Neo knew, why didn't she save him? He brought that up to Red, who confirmed one of his ongoing suspicions.

 _"She can't leave. She's not a prisoner, trust me, but she's unable to leave without endangering you or herself."_ With that, she turned her back on him and continued explaining to the twins. He wasn't sure what they were speaking of now and when he heard the topic had switched to arriving in Mistral, he decided it was worth paying attention.

So far, they had two options; boarding a ship meant for goods (or bribing them!) or somehow finding a way to sneak into a jet or plane. The latter was shot down by a timid Miltia, which he remembered because she was dressed in a red shirt and black pants, who reminded them that because Cinder ruled with an iron fist, she had heavily enforced security measures on any planes leaving Vale. If she was aware that a plane was coming to their kingdom, she would order for the hijacked Atlesian soldiers to shoot it down.

Boats were easier for travel and were what many had relied on anyway. Melanie, clad in a white silk dress with her hair up in a high ponytail, explained that the trade system in Vale was chaotic. Unable to nourish any actual items for trade, the residents of the commercial district and agriculture district had to come up with anything Cinder wanted, leaving them little to no time to raise crops or produce their own goods. Famine rippled through the area but did not last for a long time. After Cinder and her crew realized dead people equaled fewer workers and not enough soldiers, they figured it was best to allowed them to continue with their ports.

"Boats are a fine idea, Red. We need weapons, though." Roman reminded. "And some pretty good ones, too."

Red had been captured for four years, so he suspected she was unable to expand her battle skills. Quite obvious, the poor girl looked sick and abused. How could she fight? How could she even _put up_ a fight? Not that he could complain, he was inactive as well. If was going to rot in an apartment, why keep up your fighting abilities? There was just no reason to suspect that he'd ever taste freedom again. The Malachites at the moment were the strongest, although he wasn't sure how good they were at fighting. Perhaps they were better (and more competent!) than Junior's excuse of henchmen? Yeah, he could see that.

"Honestly," Quiet Miltia spoke softly, "we can help build your weapons. The process will be faster that way."

"But where? We could use one of those quick weapon shops, but we kind of need more resources."

"Actually, I now just the place." Roman smiled and turned. "Follow me, ladies."

He wasn't sure the old shack in the backyard would help. Hell, he reckoned it was even still standing! It was worth a shot, anything could help right now.

The path to the backyard was induced with nostalgia. He passed the little-torn kitchen where his mom spent her time baking- a distinct passion of hers. She wasn't in it for the flavors or the delicate sweetness, rather she enjoyed decorating and mixing colors. He passed the once ornamented hallways, wooden walls at some point covered from top to bottom in family photographs. The walls were still there, rotting in the inside and covered on the outside. There were silver frames or beaming photos of his parents' wedding or his first birthday.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Red pause. She came to a halt in front of a photograph; a photo of him and his mother in front of a water fountain. He was smiling brightly and holding up a trophy- a science award, he guessed. Intrigue filled her silver eyes and they flew towards him. He turned before their gazes could meet.

 _Great, Red's brain picked it up._

Roman inhaled the crisp air. It was refreshing, better than the air that suffocated him inside the damned house. Stretching his arms and sighing, he looked at the girls and pointed at a bleak tool shed, drained from the glorious shade of blue it was once drenched in.

"Um, it's a shed." The Girl in White's mouth formed into a frown. "It's a shed, Roman."

"My, you know what a shed is! Excellent eye for architecture, I see!"

Melanie scoffed, blowing a strand of hair off her face and folding her arms over her chest. She tilted her head slightly, mouth twisting into a childish smile. "What? Torchwick still has sarcasm after four years of no activity?"

He couldn't hide his smirk. Oh, the Twin in White was definitely someone he was going to have fun with. She was the opposite of her sister, come to think of it. Miltia was shy and terrified to talk. She would rather stand by her sister's side and just observe. He found that observant behavior of hers to be quite useful. Perhaps she was the one who reasoned and thought of her actions, unlike Melanie who just opened her mouth and _talked_.

The quiet ones were also dangerous in his experience. Speaking of quiet, he still had the lingering feeling he had to keep tabs on Red. She was smart, no longer naive to the world in front of her and had gone through a drastic change. Who knew where her heart lied, anyway?

"You talk a lot, don't you?" He taunted lightly. "Well, you're certainly a delight, Miltia."

"I'm Melanie!" She snapped, causing Miltia to flinch. "Melanie!"

 _"Children,"_ A robotic voice cut in. _"Not now."_

Roman snickered and Melanie stomped her foot on the dirt. Miltia rubbed her head, embarrassed by her sister's tantrum. Red only shook her head, probably appalled by her soldiers' behavior.

Without hesitation, he opened the door to the shed. It was an easy entrance, except for the spiderweb that had been formed at the beginning of the room. Roman saw it and took it to his advantaged, looking at Melanie and bowing.

"After you."

Melanie huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder and raising her head. She wandered in and stepped into the web.

"You fu-" Her screeching filled the air and he winced. Miltia hurried to untangle the web while her sister seethed with rage.

 _"So, where do we begin?"_ Red questioned, ignoring the twins' antics. She eyed the shed and made her way to the marble table.

The oldest of the group sighed, pinching his nose and following her. Tools hung on the walls, many rusted over years of humidity and being forgotten. Blueprints were scattered on the floor, bugs roaming on the ground. There was no light except the sunshine that slipped through a dusty window.

Red raised a blueprint, examining the sheet. She placed it down, lightly poking Roman's shoulder and motioning rapidly to the crumpled piece of paper.

It was a draft of a weapon. More specifically, the first design he had made of Melodic Cudgel, back when he was too creative and thought fitting grenades, knives, _and_ a gun into a cane was a good idea. Chuckling, he lifted the blueprint and inspected it further.

"You caught me, Red." He said. "I came to this man once, he helped _inspire_ me to create my lovely Melodic Cudgel. It wasn't as elegant and striking in this draft."

 _Oh, that man did for me more than I could begin to list._

Red nodded, wiping the counter clean from any dust. She looked at Roman and took out her scroll.

 _"My uncle inspired me to make Crescent Rose. Its first draft was a mess, he had to explain to me that it was too ambitious for a beginner. But anyway, she turned out lovely."_

"How is a scythe and a gun smashed together a beginner's friendly weapon?"

 _"Point is,"_ Red continued, ignoring his taunt. _"First drafts are to always be respected."_

Roman snickered. The twins had finally gotten the web completely out of Melanie's hair, so the duo joined them in their talk.

"Will you create your old weapons?" Miltia inquired politely, cautiously looking at Roman.

 _"Crescent Rose was one of a kind! She took a whole year to create, I can't recreate something as great as her in a week, at most! Besides, in her honor, I refuse to make another copy of her."_

"Well, the kid is attached to the oversized weed cutter." Roman drawled. "I, for one, agree. Melodic Cudgel was a beauty. Elegant, fearful, powerful, sturdy- everything. For reasons I choose not to specify, I can't replace it."

"Woah, I'm not that attached to my heels," Melanie muttered, glancing at her shoes. "They don't even have names."

The man gasped dramatically, raising his hands to cover his mouth. "A crime, Malachite! A crime!"

Even Red snickered at that, nodding her head in agreement.

"C'mon, it's just a weapon. Right, Miltia?"

"I like Nemesis." Her twin replied plainly. "He's more than a weapon."

"You named your weapon...wait, why is it a _he_..?"

"Who doesn't? Even Junior had a name for his. And excuse me, leave him alone."

"You never told me you named your claw and gave it a gender!"

"You never asked."

Grunting, Melanie shook her head and started again. "Then what?"

"We design." Roman answered plainly. "I'll look for some blank sheets and pencils. We'll do this a bit old school."

He was, truthfully, shocked that he recalled where his father stored the rolls of paper. He brought them to the table along with a bin of pencils, sharpeners and erasers. Gently placing everything for everyone's convenience, he fetched a pencil of his own and tapped it against his chin, thinking.

Red had reached for a paper and a pencil. The twins looked awkward, glancing at each other nervously.

"We can't really help with this part." Melanie reasoned. "Sorry."

"No worries, dear." He waved her off. "Go play hide and seek with your sister."

She seemed like she was close to making another comment when Miltia lightly wrapped an arm around her. "Don't worry, it's getting late. We'll stay here for the night, right? Melanie and I will _tend_ to the rooms and find a nice place, alright?"

The two left immediately, despite Melanie's initial protests.

Roman rolled his eyes. Green orbs turned to the page, mind wandering to the posibilities in store. A cane was something he was always skilled with, yet there were other things he could do. Did a cane have to be present for his whole life?

 _Yes, yes it does._

He began absent mindingly jotting notes- little tidbits of things he should add or make. He jokingly thought of a hat that could launch rockets and bear knives. He laughed and chose to ignore the weird look Red shot him. Then he thought of an improvement to his intial joke and Roman wrote it down, hoping to make it a reality someday.

As for a weapon, he had considered a sword within the cane. It was a classic, almost a cliché, but it was useful. Then he figured it wasn't his style. In fact, he wasn't as motivated as with his old weapon. But did comfort matter as much? He doibted it did, honestly.

Red was having better luck with her design. She had written her thoughts down and already began drawing. A pale hand grasped for the ruler and she start to measure her drawing, writing down information as she went.

"Any suggestions, Red?"

She looked up, frowned and nodded.

 _"Instead of a cane, use a walker."_

"You wound me, Red. I am not _that_ old."

 _"Some may beg to disagree."_

Roman snorted and Red snickered silently. She put her pencil down and reached for Roman's paper. Looking at his notes, she wrote one of her own.

 _Gun slash knife slash taser_

"A little ambitious, don't you think?"

 _"We need the best of the best, don't you think?"_

She had a point there. Red headed back to working, pencil outlining another design. He watched silently as she worked, silver focused on her works of art. She stuck her tongue out- a habit, he figured. Her eyes were glued to the page. She was in completelyoblivious to him staring at her.

Maybe she just chose to ignore him.

"So, Red."

His dad had a radio in here years ago. He'd blast _old people music_ and whistle as he worked. Late nights in the summer were spent in the shed back when his father insisted it was time for Roman to be a man and do _manly work_. He didn't really mind for he was intrigued by his father's creativity and ambition to create, well, anything. He didn't mind staying late nights in the shed, sweating in the midst of the summer heat. He did mind the old radio and its classical and dramatic beats.

Ironically, he preferred classical over any of this pop slash rock nonsense kids listened to today. Neo had a taste for a duo (Casidy? Casay? Casey? Jeffree? Jeff? Who knew) and he despised hearing it on Saturday mornings. She had a strange tendency to work out listening to rock (alternative, she claimed) and it often disturbed his sleep patterns.

Red had nodded, not looking at him.

"Do you have any...idea what you'll do after all this?"

At some point, the old radio broke. It didn't explode or simply snap or anything. His father turned it off one day after working on a table for an elderly couple. Then he came back the next night and turned it on, but to no avail. The radio was dead.

The economy was rough, too. It was a simple radio, yet his dad was cheap. He refused to buy one until times got better. Alas, he never got a new radio.

In the meantime, they talked. Small talk at first. It did wonders and Roman grew close to the man. He thought he and his dad a decent relationship, though his initial guess turned out wrong. He found out a lot about his dad that surprised him. In return, his dad got the best view into little Torchwick's mind.

 _"Yes and no."_

He was surprised she answered. Maybe she was letting down her shield for today?

"Elaborate?"

 _"The obvious part is that I'm going to find Yang. If I do and also kill Cinder, then I'll leave. No huntress dreams for me, just a quiet life in Patch. And the no comes with the whole Patch thing, I don't know if dad or my uncle are even still there. I didn't graduate so I don't have anything. And if Yang...if she's gone, then I don't think there's much of a life left for me."_

He cringed at the last sentence. His no empathy rule reminded him not to feel pity for Red, then he figured, "Fuck it."

She was talking to _the_ orphan who built an entire criminal empire by the age of twenty four, completely motived by grief and despair.

 _"What about you? Anything in store for the Great Torchwick?"_ Red finished typing, placing her scroll down and dusting her skirt off.

He had thought of life after _this_. Saving Neo was his goal, but then what? He had places they could live and he knew they could miraculously survive of crime again. They'd strive again in the streets, just not with the goal to become feared. They'd survive, just survive. Then they'd die and that would be it.

"I retired from the criminal business years ago, my dear. Neo and I are retiring, we'll steal cash one last time, score the lottery and buy a little house. Then I'll die and leave everything I have to her and she can figure it out."

Yeah, that was not in his plans.

"And really, I highly doubt there's much either of us can do."

Red sighed, propping her elbows on the counter and resting her chin.

 _"I would have graduated Beacon by now."_

"I would have stolen the Schnee Dust Company from your partner by now, but alas, there is forced rest for the wicked."

She cracked a grin at that, shaking her head and standing up again.

Roman stretched, flexing his fingers and flicking his wrist. The sun was dying now, sharing its final breaths before plunging into slumber. Darkness would rise and they'd have to head back to the abandoned house. If all was well, the Malachites had found a room that didn't have as many rat holes and hogged it to themselves.

 _"Do you ever think of it, I guess? Life if we hadn't been thrown into this shithole by Cinder?"_

He had. The man had many, many times. He thought of it, he dreamt of it, he was praying for it. Those were the first two years, he woke up one day and realized how worthless it was.

"Yes and no. I can't keep lamenting it, Red. Not now, we have to focus on playing our cards right and fighting Cinder."

If Red was unsatisfied by the answer, she didn't let it show. She picked up her pencil and started designing. He did too, moving at his own pace and rythm. He found himself more at ease, even humming tunes he remembered from those late summer nights.

The night stretched on. Crickets and frogs sang in the darkness, wind blowing across the tall grass. Roman had lit a candle to keep working, since he was finally inspired.

Taking a final look, Roman placed a blueprint on top of a stack of others. He had come up with a couple of ideas and four designs. Red had worked on five and he was a bit shocked. Traditionally, he knew he worked with one design and its several edits. How he made so many drafts was...shocking, to say the least. In fact, he felt quite proud of himself.

"I'm done for the night. We can send the Malachites to a nearby town for materials- then we can work on it. Sounds good?"

Red nodded. She ran a hand through her hair, rubbing her eyes afterwards.

 _"I'm not tired, I'll stay out and then sleep. Go ahead, Roman."_

He clicked his tongue, frowning. Ah, he wasn't very tired. He slept too much, actually. Besides, Red was not in her best state of mind. Not that he cared for the girl, but he did need her to get to Neo.

"How about a game of cards?"

 _"I forgot how to play."_

"Then," He pulled the deck of cards from his pocket and smirked, placing it in her hands. "I'll teach you."

Time was lost in explaining the rules to Red. He offered different games to play that didn't involve betting (sadly), and he found out she distinctly remembered playing Speed once.

 _"I'm not a card fan,_ " Red repeated. _"Yang and Uncle Qrow played Speed a lot at home. I played with Yang once and she kicked my ass."_

Roman hummed, listening to the monotone voice while arranging the stack. He place two cards in the middle side by side while playing another two stacks. He passed out the remaining cards motioned for her to watch.

"We'll play by five. Grab five cards from your stack and sort them by order for easier use. You remember the order?"

Seeing her bob her head, he continued. "When you're done, flip the card in the middle. When we get stuck and can't put any down, we grab the cards to the side."

And so they flipped. Roman placed a queen, followed by a joker and slammed a three and a two down. Red looked puzzled, wrinkling her nose and setting down a six and a five. Roman saw a chance and placed a four, grabbing the next set of cards.

"Speed." Roman smiled at Red, who frowned and let out an exasperating sigh. "The point is to be fast, Red. Now, let's play again."

He shuffled the cards carefully, catching a whiff of the scent of old cards. Red watched carefully, almost dazed as he rapidly seperated the cards and placed them in order.

"Ready?"

Red flipped her card and they began.

The rest of the game was spent with Red frantically trying to set her cards down before Roman. It took her to the third game to actually win, except she couldn't scream speed so she was stuck banging on the table.

Roman put his cards down, catching the problem. "Here, let me help."

He raised two hands up. Sticking his thumbs between his index and middle fingers. "This is sign language for speed."

 _"Oh no, I'm not doing that."_

"Try it, Red. Or else I'll keep winning." He flashed her a toothy grin.

She cringed in response. Holding her hands up, she positioned her fingers in the same way as Roman. "See! You can win now without banging on the table!"

Red rolled her eyes, a smile gracing her feautures. Taking a deep breath, she motioned for him to start a new round.

They played once more. Red was fast, too fast in fact. She grabbed card after card before running out. She did a motion afterwards saying _speed_ , which meant she had won the game.

"Congrats." Roman said, fixing the cards together and yawning.

Red did her own little celebration dance, jumping up and pumping a fist in the air. She was beaming, her hands forming the words _speed_ over and over again.

Roman chuckled softly. Maybe Red would need to learn sign language. He wouldn't mind teaching her, even if his wasn't as perfect. Oh, and he hadn't practiced in years!

"Let's rest for the night. We have to make a list to buy first thing tomorrow."

The duo stacked their utensils and headed back to the house. Roman closed the door to the shed and stretched his arms. Red waited for him and he led her through the house.

The night was quiet, stars illuminating the sky. Everything was in sheer darkness, the creatures of the night coming to rule. The air was chilly and Roman guessed it was just around midnight.

As luck would have it, the Malachites hadn't hoghed up his parents' old bedroom. They were asleep on the dusty couches under some blankets they had brought. Candles were lit around them, probably to ease their worries about being chewed up by rats.

"I know where you can stay."

Red nodded, biting her bottom lip as she pryed her eyes away from the sleeping sisters. He showed her the way to his parents' bedroom and lit a few candles.

The room reeked of sadness and death. It stunk, literally, and even Red had scrunched up her nose in disgust. She helped him clean the sheets and replace the pillows for more suitable ones. As he attempted to search for any rat holes, he noticed Red looking at the photographs on the walls.

His mom had a little shrine of them. She decorated her room with photographs of them as a family- from Roman's birth to his graduation and even up to...the things that happened. They were scattered among the wall, enclosed in silver and gold frames. He watched Red pick at a photo, cleaning it with her fingers.

It was of him and his mother. They were smiling and Roman was slicing open a cake for his sixth birthday. The day was followed by a small celebration between family and friends.

Nostalgia curled up inside his stomach and he let out a sigh of exasperation. He missed his family dearly. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if-

No, he could not let the past distract him from the now. Neo was his now and he had to find her.

Disguising his initial feelings, he turned to Red and shook his head. "You're safe for the night."

 _"Thank you."_

"Sleep well, Red. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

She rolled her eyes again and waved goodbye. He stepped out the room, deciding it was time to find himself a room to sleep. It wouldn't be hard, the only rolm left had been his old room.

 _Breathe._

The old room of the hild with bright green eyes and fresh dreams stood only inches apart. The ginger nervously reached for the door knob, heart racing. "Fucking dammit, Torchwick. You can do this."

The moment the door opened, there was no turning back. Besides, where else would he sleep? Romanventured into his childhood room, emersed into a world that was no longer his.

He was greeted by drawings. Not that he didn't remember his old room. He did recall how bad he was at interior design, anyway.

The drawings were made by him with crayons and markers. Some were of the world- a map of remnant, some maps and other landmarks. Others were of a stick figure with striking red-orange hair (could it be him?) and a little stick family. The final drawings were of houses and buildings.

His bed was smaller than he remembered. He sat down, the springs of the mattress squeaking. The man smiled fondly, eyes finding a set of action figures from comic books he hsed to read on the nightstand. There was a yellow lava lamp he had won in a carnival, next to an alarm clock shaped in the form of a fish.

Green eyes looked up and met stars- stars that surprisingly, still shone. His dad helped him glue the glow-in-the-dark stars across the ceiling. Sighing, he turned to see toys scattered in the room. A bookcase remained in the far end, beckoning him to discover its secrets.

Roman got up and ran a finger down the spine of a book. There were many, some picture tales and fairyttales, others more non-fiction. He was interested in science back then, so it was not a surprise to find many old scientific books. A little red book stood out to him, though, and he reached for that one.

 **Property of Roman T.**

 **Reward if found: A cookie**

He snorted at that. Well, at least he was cheap even back then.

Curious killed the cat and he dug into the book's secrets, hoping to step into the shoes of a more innocent Torchwick. What did this little boy dream of? What hopes did he have for the future? What would he think if he found out he was actually a fugitive of the law?

 _Dear future me,_

 _Hello! It's me, you!_

Roman snorted at that.

 _What year is it? How old are you? I'm eight years old! I want to grow up and study physics, but my mom wants me to be a huntress. Maybe I could do both!_

No, he did not do either.

 _Anyway, how's your life now? I hope my parents health is good!_

They're dead, kid.

 _I want to grow up and live in a big house! I'll get married and have two beautiful daughters and a dog!_

Roman hated mutts. His many houses were huge, though it lacked a beautiful wife and two daughters. Instead, he had one daughter he loved and cherished.

 _I want to help people, did we do that?_

No, he hurt more than helped. Ah, how naive he had been.

 _Also, did dad ever teach us how to play cards? I hate cards! They're obnoxious!_

"Oh, how a deck of cards will save your life, kiddo."

 _Well, I gotta go! I hope you're happy! Bye!_

"Am I happy?" He voiced, shutfing the book. It was barely the first page, but it had been enough to rudely awaken him. No, he was not happy.

He placed the book on the nightstand and took off his coat. He pulled off his shoes and threw on a blanket, hoping sleep would bless him and come soon.

The cards had gone crazy and he needed to sleep. Tomorrow, they'd build their weapons and start to head to Mistral in the span of the next days.

 _"And it better be fast, because I can't stand being inside this house."_

He slept, haunted and tormented by the chained ghosts of his parents, wailing and crying and asking what had he done with his life. He slept, under the eyes of a heartbroken boy who never stood a chance in life.

He slept in the town that time forgot, destroyed by the Grimm and ceased to exist in his mind for the longest.


End file.
